The Lionheart
by Elmethea
Summary: With Voldemort in charge of the English Ministry, Isabella Petrroci is forced to go to school in Italy. But with a revolution in full swing, how safe can Italy be? Set during DH. Final installment of the Isabella Petrroci O'Reagan trilogy.
1. The Mysterious Disappearance

The kitchen of the Burrow was so crowded that it was difficult to maneuver knives and forks. This was largely because the Weasleys were joined by Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and several members of the Order of the Phoenix.

Harry found himself crammed beside Ginny and, having broken up with her a few months previously in an attempt to protect her, he found the seating arrangement very awkward. He was trying so hard to avoid brushing her arm he could barely cut his chicken.

"No news about Mad-Eye?" he asked Bill. Mad-Eye Moody had been killed a very days ago when they were ambushed by Death Eaters while trying the get Harry from his aunt and uncle's house.

"Nothing," replied Bill. "The _Daily Prophet _hasn't said a word about him dying, or about finding the body. But that doesn't mean much. It's keeping a lot quiet these days."

"And they still haven't called a hearing about all the under-age magic I used escaping the Death Eaters?" Harry called across the table to Mr. Weasley, who shook his head. "Because they know I had no choice or because they don't want me to tell the world Voldemort attacked me?"

"The latter, I think. Scrimgeour doesn't want to admit that You-Know-Who is as powerful as he is, nor that Azkaban's seem a mass breakout."

"Yeah, why tell the public the truth?" said Harry, clenching his knife so tightly that the faint scars on the back of his right hand stood out, white against his skin.

"Isn't anyone at the Ministry prepared to stand up to him?" asked Ron angrily.

"Of course, Ron, but people are terrified," Mr. Weasley replied. "Terrified that they will be next to disappear, their children the next to be attacked! There are nasty rumors going round; I, for one, don't believe the Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts resigned. She hasn't been seen for weeks now. Meanwhile, Scrimgeour remains shut up in his office all day: I just hope he's working on a plan."

"What about Mrs. Petrroci?" Harry asked. "She always stood up to the Minister in the past. What's she doing now?" Antonia Petrroci, the Italian ambassador to England, was infamous for her fights with Fudge, the previous Minister for Magic, and now with Scrimgeour.

"Ah," Mr. Weasley said, laying down his knife and fork. "That's right, you know Isabella, her daughter. Well, Antonia Petrroci didn't come into work one day. When they went looking, the house was empty."

"What do you mean, 'the house was empty'?" Fred demanded, leaning out over the table to look at his father, George copying the movement. The twins had always had a soft spot for Isabella.

"I mean, it appears that Isabella's family had packed up and moved out," Mr. Weasley explained. "Vanished without a trace. Most people think they returned to Italy. Do you remember Florean Fortescue?"

Harry nodded, his stomach clenching. Fortescue had always given Harry free ice creams at his shop in Diagon Alley.

"His shop was boarded up about the same time. He was, after all, Isabella's father's godfather."

"Practically raised him," Tonks nodded.

"Yes, it seems old Leonardo Petrroci knew what was going on before anyone else," Kingsley nodded. "Knew the English Ministry was being infiltrated and got his family the hell out of there. I understand he's very fond of Antonia and Isabella."

"What we were surprised about is why Patrick didn't tell us," Lupin said. Patrick O'Reagan was Isabella's father. "He joined the Order a week after Dumbledore's funeral."

"Did he?" Harry asked, surprised. "Who did he-?"

"Me," Tonks answered. "You know Patrick and I were best friends in school. He was so torn up about Dumbledore's death, really wanted to do something. He was one of our most active members for a few weeks. And then he disappeared without a word."

"It is very possible they had no idea they were leaving," Kingsley said. "I understand Leonardo to be an ambiguous, cunning man. He probably didn't tell them until the last minute so that their departure wouldn't be anticipated."


	2. The Italian Ministry

AN: All dialogue in these chapters is supposed to be in Italian.

The square in front of the Quirinal Palace was jam-packed with tourists chatting animatedly in almost every language. Cameras bounced against their chests and many ate gelato bought from several nearby vendors. Although the Palace was a very grand sight, very few of the tourists were there to see it. Its magnificence was a sort of added bonus to the real attraction: the Fontana di Trevi.

Two members of the crowd were not there for sight-seeing on this late summer day. A tall, white-haired man dressed in a business suit pushed his way through the crowds. A girl, about sixteen-years old, followed in his wake. She had black hair, olive-toned skin, and dark eyes. She was also dressed very professionally, wearing a black skirt with matching blazer and a simple white blouse. A brilliantly green feather was tucked in her button hole in the place of a flower. Both man and girl held attache cases tightly, wary of pick-pockets.

The two pushed their way to the front of the crowd, which grew denser as it neared the fountain. Tourists complained in their respective languages as they were jostled aside, but something in the manner of the older man made them fall silent and move aside. All of the Muggles here were holding their Muggle coins tightly, a few with only one, most with two, and a surprising number with three.

The girl followed her grandfather around the edge of the fountain. They had wormed their way to the side where the statue of_ Salubrity_ offered a snake water from her goblet.

There was a stairway there, hidden to all Muggles and only visible to magic-users who knew how to look for it. It gently arched up, following the base of the grand windows of the Palazza Poli. The man stepped onto the first stair and gave the girl his hand, helping her climb up onto it in her black high heels. The Muggles, of course, couldn't see the two as they walked just over the spot where the pipes gushed out clear water. The girl extended a hand and gently traced it along the fish tail of one of the hippocampi statues. She touched her hand to one of the Triton's thrown back arms and shuddered at the cool feel of the marble.

Her grandfather pulled out his wand, a well-polished length of oak and dragon heart-string, and tapped the edge of the huge shell Oceanus stood on. There was a grating sound as a section of stone pulled away, revealing a trapdoor with a spiral staircase curving down from it.

Descending the steps, the girl looked back just in time to see the trapdoor close again, shutting off the square of blue sky.

The stairs were encased in a column of bright marble blocks, smooth and well put-together. About two stories below there was a doorway and it was to this level they descended.

The door led to a large, circular room built completely of marble from which many hallways branched. The doors of the halls were framed by doric columns about seven feet high. On the other side of the room, exactly opposite of the staircase door were plain black letters that read: "LIVELLO DELLA FOGNA", which means "The Sewer Level."

At the center of the room was a round dais with a large hole in the center. As they watched, the heads of people appeared in this hole, followed by their bodies. Within seconds, half a dozen witches and wizards, wearing everything from Muggle clothes to wizard robes, were elevated into sight. The platform they were standing on grounded to a halt, its coloring and texture so similar to the surrounding dais that it would have been nearly impossible to distinguish where it ended and the dais began.

The witches and wizards stepped off the platform and walked swiftly down the steps. A few of them saw the older man and bowed cordially to him before striding off down the various hallways.

The two visitors stepped up onto the emptied platform. As soon as they did, it began to descend slowly and smoothly.

They passed a level identical to the one above except that the columns besides the doors were ionic this time and the lettering, in silver, said: "LIVELLO DEL CATACOMB I", the first Catacomb Level. A few people were in this one, passing from hallway to hallway. Some appeared to be waiting for the elevator, but when they saw its occupants, they stepped back a little, allowing the lift to continue without them.

They passed Livelle del Catacomb II, III, and IV and - though there was a noticeable increase in the number of people on each level - none of them seemed to want to take the lift when they saw its occupants.

Finally, the elevator slid smoothly into place about eight floors below the city of Rome. This room was larger than any of the previous ones. The dais was not in the center, on the contrary, it was off to the side like some unimportant, undecorative addition no one really wanted to look at. The room soared upwards so that the ceiling was at least three stories above. Corinthian columns framed the windows two and three stories up that ran around the room. People moved along these, busy at their own work.

The entire room was made of white marble and draped with sheer purple and gold fabric. On the first level there were no walls, just corinthian columns at intervals. Beyond these were hundreds of desks and offices. Directly across the room was a dais identical to the one the two visitors climbed off of. That one was empty, indicating that the lift was on one of the upper floors. But in between the twin platforms stood a magnificent statue.

She stood tall and proud, with regal bearing and raiment. The edges of her white marble gown were gilded in gold and silver. The tiara on her head was made of solid gold and rayed out like depictions of Helios's crown. Her face could have had any expression, joy or disapproval or sorrow, but it was not empty. You could not have seen her feet, for three great dragons circled her.

These beasts were large and sinuous, carved entirely of black marble. Their jaws opened in hideous snarls and long spiked tails wounded around their long talons. Each of the dragons faced a different way, to protect their goddess from all sides. And each of the dragons was encrusted with precious stones. Pearls, rubies, emeralds, diamonds, sapphires, and many others studded the hides of the beasts, making them glisten in the light. But for all that, they were not held in as high esteem as the woman above them for she radiated power, justice, and authority.

She was Hecate, goddess of magic. Her following had been carried over in the ancient days by long-dead sorcerers and fortune-tellers. Now she presided over this place, the heart of the Italiano Ministero di Magia, the Italian Ministry of Magic.

The groups of people gathered in this great chamber parted for the man and the girl to walk through. Several people bowed respectfully to the man as he passed.

A young man wearing a black business suit and blue tie hurried forward to greet them. He had wavy black hair and worried dark eyes.

"Signor Petrroci, always an honor and a pleasure," the young man said shaking the older man's hand and smiling.

"It is always good to see you, Minister," Leonardo Petrroci smiled. "Allow me to introduce my granddaughter, Isabella Petrroci." The Minister, Basilio de Piero, took Isabella's hand and bowed over it, his eyes sparkling. She smiled back, but winced inside at the introduction. She had become used to using her father's surname in England, but now that she was in Italy she had been ordered to go by her mother's maiden name.

"We are just about to begin," Basilo said. "If you will follow me, sir?" The Minister led them through one of the columns and into a less grand, more office-like space. The carpet here was thick and blue with a golden boarder. People working at desks on either side stood up when Isabella, Signor Petrroci, and the Minister walked by, but Isabella could not tell if they were acknowledging her grandfather or Basilio.

Signor de Piero went to a heavy oak door, opened it, and waved them inside. The walls were painted a muted sage green and several bronze busts lined the room. Isabella recognized Socrates, Cato, Ambrose, and Machiavelli. An oval-shaped conference table dominated this room. Surprisingly, Muggle-style swivel chairs had been pulled up to this. Most of these chairs were already full.

There was a tall, blonde witch with crimson robes who nodded to the Minister; a small, nervous-looking man who jumped at the sound of the door closing; a dark man wearing Muggle clothing who smiled encouragingly, if a little confusedly, at Isabella; a woman with long brown-hair pulled into a ponytail who was looking into her cup of coffee as though reading its depths; and half a dozen others.

The Minister sat on the long end of the table, right in the middle. Although he could not see everyone from this point, he had more room than if he had placed himself at one of the narrower ends of the table. Leonardo Petrroci sat at one of these tips of the table. Isabella suspected he did this so that he could see everyone in the room.

Isabella pulled an extra swivel chair from its place by the wall and sat behind her grandfather, a little off to his left.

"Right, is everyone settled?" Basilio asked. "Because we're going to be here a while." When everyone nodded, the Minister waved his wand at the door. A sheet of green light spread outward from the door over all the walls, floor, and ceiling. It hung for a second, then faded.

"The first order of business is Santo Antonio," the Minister announced. "They are worried about an attack."

"Every protection possible has been placed around the hospital," the blonde witch said, sounding exasperated. Isabella had the feeling this conversation had been brought up several times.

"They are concerned an attack might be started outside their magical protections, break through the barriers, and enter the hospital," Basilio explained. "They are concerned about Fiendfyre." Everyone went silent.

"Any ideas?" the Minister prompted. "Even false reassurance that the barriers are strong enough to hold off Fiendfyre, which we know they aren't?" Isabella was surprised and pleased by the young man's blunt truthfulness. Skipping around the facts and ignoring the truth wasn't going to help the patients at the hospital if they were burned.

"Is there no evacuation plan?" the blonde woman asked.

"There is, but there's no way the Healers could get everyone out in time," Basilio sighed. "Very well, if there are no ideas, I ask that you bring this problem up at your next department meeting and brainstorm then. I'm afraid we have other things to discuss. For example, the Vatican."

Everyone turned to look at the dark man who was wearing a muggle coat and tie. "Still no progress there, I'm afraid," he shrugged. "I have a brief overview of all previous interactions with the Vatican, though. Ahem: June 30, representative from the Muggle Liaison Office - that's me - first approached the Pontifical Commission for Vatican City State. The Swiss guard was summoned and the representative - still me, mind you -was forcibly ejected. July 1 through July 25, the same representative continued to make periodic appearances in the private rooms of various members of the P.C.f.V.C.S. On the afternoon of July 25, the representative managed to have a conversation lasting from 4:32 pm to 4:40 pm in which he explained the dangers posed by the rebel group. The Swiss guard was then called, the representative physically thrown out for the twenty-sixth time.

"Acting upon the advice of the Minister, the representative first approached the Pope, Bishop of Rome, Vicar of Jesus Christ, Successor of the Prince of the Apostles, Supreme Pontiff of the Universal Church, Primate of Italy, Archbishop and Metropolitan of the Roman Province, Sovereign of the Sate of Vatican City, Servant of the Servants of God. The Swiss guard was called, the representative, being thoroughly tired of getting thrown out on his ear, Disapparated.

"On the next day at precisely 2:46 pm, the representative appeared in the Pope's chambers. He was admitted and received cordially enough. By 2:49 pm the Swiss guard was at the door. The next time the representative presented himself to the B.o.R., V.o.J.C., S.o.t.P.o.t.A., etc., he was allowed to sit in one of the chairs in the Pope's private room. The following passage was then read allowed to him:

"_Magic is the art of performing actions beyond the power of man with the aid of powers other than the Divine. Any attempt at it is a grevious sin against the virtue of religion, because all magical performances are based on the expectation of interference by demons or lost souls._"

"To summarize, the representative visited the Vatican a total of twenty-nine times. He was thrown out a total of twenty-six times. He was excommunicated a total of three times. The representative wonders if those excommunications count, or have cancelled each other out."

Although delivered in a highly humorous manner, no one around the conference table was laughing.

"I supposed that's it then," Basilio said, rubbing a hand across his weary face. "There's no choice. We're going to have to protect them without their consent." There was a somber pause as everyone considered this.

"Do we have any moral or legal rights in this matter?" the nervous-looking wizard asked. "I mean, really, I know we feel we must, but are the revoltoso going to actually attack Muggle buildings?"

"We can't take the chance they won't," Basilio said. "Despite the fact that the people living within Vatican City have refused our help, there is the fact of the matter that we have an obligation to protect those we can."

"Not to mention," a squeaky little voice piped up. It was a dwarf lady, who was kneeling on her chair to see over the table. "That we have all pledged to protect Rome and, though the Vatican claims no political attachment to Rome, we must remember that the tourism trade will suffer if we allow the Vatican and the priceless works of art contained therein to be trampled by a gaggle of geese gone gaga."

Isabella smiled to herself, thinking of how Fred and George would have loved that tongue-twister. Her silent amusement was hidden from everyone else in the room because her head was bent over her clipboard. She was scratching away with her quill, carefully drawing out a map of the area surrounding Santo Antonio. She drew a circle with the hospital in the middle. As the witches and wizards at the table continued to make remarks and plans on how to set magical protection about the Vatican, Isabella drew a chart.

She began to make calculations, using complicated swirls and formulas she had learned in Arithmancy class. Coming up with a series of numbers, she began to fill in the chart. No sooner had she scribble the last digit in the chart than her grandfather spoke up with quiet authority. Everyone immediately fell silent, even Isabella looked up from her doodling.

"This is all very good and I think you are on the right tract. But if you would turn your attention to my granddaughter, I think she may have something to share about the Santo Antonio situation." Everyone turned to stare at her, some with looks of incredulity, others with patronizing smiles, and still others who looked annoyed. The Minister was not one of these, however, he sat back and looked interested.

"Well, I was just calculating," Isabella addressed herself to Basilio, feeling too nervous to look at anyone else in the room. "And I think there is a perfectly feasible way to protect the hospital. You see, we can take advantage of the fact that Fiendfyre spreads quickly by placing trigger spells at various places around the hospital. Here, here, and here, for example," she pointed to the spots on her map that formed a loosed circle outside the one she had first drawn.

"When the Fyre hits these, they will trigger a reaction bringing water up from the aqueducts of the Tiber, slamming into the Fyre and extinguishing it," she finished.

"You think it is possible that enough water could be summoned to put out a full blown explosion of Fiendfyre?" Basilio asked, raising an eyebrow.

"If you hit it with a wall of water, yes," she said nervously. They were all going to start laughing at her now, she just knew it.

"I think it's a wonderful plan," the Minister announced. "However, I would suggest pulling the water from a different source. Say, the Tiber or even as far away as Ostia. If the spells are powerful enough, we should be able to draw water from as far away as we wish. But how will the trigger spells work?"

"All they have to do is activate Summoning Charms," Isabella explained. It was too childish, someone surely would find a major flaw in her plan...

"Brilliant!" the blonde witch exclaimed. "Perfect. Simple, but effective." They all began to chatter excitedly about this new plan, already debating whether it was better to use the river water or the sea.

"I think it is a good plan," Leonardo Petrroci announced. Yet again, the room lapsed into respectful silence. "However, I would urge Isabella to go over your calculations over with Valentino Petrroci, possibly making adjustments to see the wait time for water from the Tiber and Ostia.

With that topic discussed and out of the way, Basilio steered the conversation toward the catacombs, from which the upper levels of the Ministry could be accessed. Naturally, there was a barrier all around the underground building to protect it, but he wasn't satisfied.

"I think we should put Caterwauling Charms in the entry points, I really do," he said. "And then warn our people not to use the catacombs any longer."

Just then, there was a slight rapping on the door. Basilio looked at the door sharply, then relaxed. Waving his wand, the green light reappeared. A rip opened in front of the door and shaped itself into a rectangle exactly the size of the door. A pretty witch opened the door. She was holding a sheet of paper and walked around the silent room to where the Minister sat. Giving him the message, she turned and left. The green wall closed the gap behind her. The Minister read the message, then grimly set it face down on the table.

"The British Ministry of Magic has fallen," he announced. "Rufus Scrimgeour is dead."


	3. Newspapers

Isabella looked out of the window of Villa Petrroci one last time. All her belongings were packed into a brand new purple trunk that bore a golden seal of a dragon clutching a shield bearing the letters A and I.

Her augury Castro was shut up in his cage. He opened his mouth periodically, but no sound came out. The cat-like creature imprisoned in a whicker hamper was not so silent. The kneazle spat and hissed, occasionally working a spotted paw out and clawing at her carrier.

The room was very tidy, swept and dusted. On top of the neatly made bed lay a pile of English and Italian newspapers. Isabella went over to these and flicked through them. The one on top had a large picture of a familiar, hook-nosed, greasy-haired man, beneath a headline that read: _SEVERUS SNAPE CONFIRMED AS HOGWARTS HEADMASTER_. With a snort of disgust, Isabella threw this paper in the trashcan and moved to the next one. This paper was from a few days ago and, though it was the Italian _Cassiere di Fortuna,_ the front-page story was about the British Ministry of Magic.

"_ENGLISH MINISTRY OF MAGIC INFILTRATED,_" the headline proclaim and below, "_Harry Potter suspected to be behind the break-in._"

Isabella sat down and re-read the article.

"Yesterday on September 2 sources report that the British Ministry of Magic was broken into by a small group of people. Although there is no definite number, the witnesses agree that there could not have been more than five or less than two. Rumors suggest that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, led the infiltration.

Harry Potter, who has faced Voldemort on several occasions and has emerged alive and victorious every time, has recently been the subject of a one-thousand-Galleon reward being offered by the English Ministry of Magic in return for his capture and arrest. Some speculate that Potter might even be the Chosen One to defeat the Dark Wizard. However, the British Ministry has given him the title "Undesirable Number One". This drastic change in their policies is yet further proof that the British Minister is now under the control of Voldemort.

It has been speculated that Potter and his accomplices snuck into the English Ministry in the disguise of several British Ministry employees. A series of disturbance followed - including a minor explosion that was possibly some sort of distraction and a missing artifact from a high-ranking official's office - before it was decided that intruders were indeed inside the English Ministry.

The order was immediately given to seal all exits, but it appears that the proceedings to do so were interrupted by British Ministry official Albert Runcorn. There is some discrepancy in witnesses' accounts over whether Runcorn was attempting to stop or aid a group of escaping Muggle-borns. When another British Ministry official intervened, a fight broke out, during which the Muggle-borns escaped and Runcorn disappeared.

The damage done during the infiltration included: the entire office and personal belongings of a Death Eater suffering water damage (it is unknown if this damage is directly related to the incident); the Stunning of Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and head of The Muggle-Born Registration Committee Dolores Umbridge; the Stunning of the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Yaxley; the removal of a magically-enchanted spy-hole in a high-ranking official's office; and minor carpet burns and smoke stains."

Isabella folded up the paper and read no more. It wasn't written very well, but that was because it came directly from a spy's report which had been brief and included those details which were only interesting to Signor de Piero.

"_The takeover of the English Ministry was very hushed up in their papers," Isabella had said to Basilio one afternoon when her grandfather had taken her to the Ministry and then had been drawn into a long discussion with the brown-haired witch, whom Isabella now knew to be Giovanna Perugino, head of the Department of Magical Defense and in charge of the Auror office. Her grandfather had taken to leaving her alone in the Italian Ministry for longer and longer, but Basilio always seemed to find her._

"_Yes, well, I have my own sources who are a little more faithful in reporting that their newspapers," Basilio had smiled._

"_So, you have spies."_

"_I'm afraid I can't confirm that," he had grinned._

The other fault of the article was that it took too much time saying the _British_ Ministry of Magic. It was as though they wanted to emphasize the stability of their own government, which, to be fair, they did. The article also had a few other twists, including consistently referring to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as Voldemort instead of Lord Voldemort in an attempt to undermine his influence and power.

"_Here again, Bella?" Basilio had asked, seeing her waiting by the statue of Hecate, the day after the take over of the English Ministry. "What is your grandfather doing today?"_

"_He's with Andrea Auditore, the one from the Department of International Magical Cooperation," Isabella had sighed."They're talking about the revoltso again."_

"_Yes. Well, the revoltso always seem to gain new strength from Voldemort's successes," Basilio had explained. "They aren't his followers, but the fact that he's taken control of the most powerful Ministry of Magic in the world with so little of a fight..." he shook his head desparingly. "It's not good for us."_

Because the revoltsoto had rallied around Voldemort, the Italian Ministry had rallied around Harry Potter, publicly proclaiming him to be the Boy-Who-Lived and The Chosen One.

"Bewwa! Bewwa!" a little voice giggled, interrupting her thoughts. Isabella turned and saw her smallest cousin, Beatrice, run into the room. She had been the tiniest of the Petrroci's up until last January when Pallas, the first child of Aunt Juliet and Uncle Taddeo, has been born.

Isabella picked up the little girl and twirled her around, just as she had seen Alessandro do with all of the little cousins. Beatrice laughed and spread her arms out like wings.

"Sergio very mad at you, Bewwa," Beatrice warned her when Isabella set the girl back down. "Say huwwy up!"

"I will," Isabella promised, briefly linking pinkies with the little girl who smiled and skipped off to the nursery, where she usually hovered over the newest addition to the family. Isabella smiled after her, then felt her shoulders droop as she picked up the article from where it had fallen and looked it over again.

"BELLA!" someone called from several floors below. "We're going to be late!"

"No we aren't!" she shouted back. Dropping the article back on her bed, Isabella turned and saw Snape glowering up at her from the wastebasket. Pointing her wand at him she said, "_Incendio!_" The newspaper caught on fire and began to burn. Turning away from it, Isabella picked up her trunk, balanced her pets' cages on top of it, and began to lug it downstairs.


	4. The Academia

Like Hogwarts, the Academia de Italia had to be reached by train. The four members of the Petrroci family who were going to school - Sergio, Tina, Rosina, and Isabella - were to be escorted to the station by Isabella's parents, Lorenzo, and Alessandro. The three siblings mother had died several years ago due to a back-firing spell. Another man, short and rather round, was waiting downstairs when Isabella arrived. He was Florean Fortescue, former owner of Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour in Diagon Alley and god-father to Isabella's father, Patrick O'Reagan.

"Off to school," he beamed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Excited?" The other three, who did not know Florean very well and were clearly uncomfortable having him stay with them in their private home, averted their eyes and did not answer.

"A little nervous, actually," Isabella confessed. "I've never gone anywhere but Hogwarts."

"Speaking of which, did you hear that they're requiring all English students to enroll?" Isabella's father asked. "It's an outrage! Parents have always had the option of tutoring their own children, now Snape's got all of the next generation of witches and wizards under his thumb, and he's under You-Know-Who's thumb."

"Are you coming with us, Mr. Fortescue?" Isabella asked politely, though she already knew the answer. Florean had been advised by grandfather not to leave the Villa Petrroci.

"I'm afraid not," he sighed dramatically. "Though I would have likes to see Rome! But your Uncle Luigi is very kind, he brings me samples of gelato everyday." Florean and Luigi had hit it off very well, both being wizards who preferred to use their skills in making food.

"So, I guess you'll be going then," Florean said, escorting the little group to the doors. "Have fun, Bella, don't worry, do your homework, and make some friends!" As the huge doors of the Villa Petrroci closed behind them, everyone looked relieved and Isabella's father looked amused.

"He gave me that exact same speech, word for word, every time I went off to Hogwarts," he said. Alessandro smiled, and gently squeezed Isabella's shoulder.

"It'll be fine," he assured her. She smiled weakly back.

They walked along the dusty road, occasionally picking grapes from the untended vines. The area around the house had once been a vineyard, but had become overgrown with neglect. It still produced a few grapes, though, and these were sweet and ripe.

At the end of the path they paired off, one adult with one student. Mr. O'Reagan took Sergio's elbow and together they stepped off the path onto the asphalt. Twisting, they Disapparated with a crack. Isabella's mother helped Tina carry her trunk onto the road and they disappeared together, followed by Lorenzo and Rosina. Alessandro, carrying Isabella's trunk, stepped onto the road. She joined him, holding Portia's carrier and Castro's cage. He took her elbow and turned.

There was a terrible feeling, like being squeezed tightly around the chest so she couldn't breathe. Everything was black and pressing. Then, suddenly, the pressure stopped and Isabella took a great lungfuls of air.

They stood in an ally just outside of the Roma Termini Station. It had a high, peaked roof and bright glass windows at either end. Isabella's parents, Sergio, the twins, and Lorenzo stood a little farther away. Together their little group hurried across the street and into the station. Passing under the famous sign marking the name of the station, they joined the cues of Muggles, who were all all trying to catch their own trains.

Remembering Platform 9 and 3/4, Isabella wondered how they were supposed to get on the right train. Her ticket said that they needed to find the AI Treno, but there was no platform number. Everyone else - except her father, who lagged a little behind - seemed to know exactly where to go and was intent on getting there as quickly as possible. Lorenzo and Alessandro kept looking around nervously.

They marched straight across the station and to the other side, which was a wall made entirely of glass.

"Right, Sergio, go," Lorenzo said, pushing the boy from behind. Isabella looked around, there was no where to go to. But when she turned back to where Sergio had been, he wasn't there anymore.

"Rosina, quickly!" Lorenzo beckoned the girl impatiently she rushed forward, running straight at the windows and when she reached them, she went straight through. But she didn't emerge on the other side. It was like looking at some bizarre one-way mirror, or a picture painted to look like the outside.

Lorenzo had followed Rosina, carrying the rest of the girl's bags. Tina went next, Alessandro going with her, holding one end of her trunk.

"Blimey," Isabella's father said, watching as they disappeared.

"You'd better go, honey, take Portia and Castro," Isabella's mother said, looking worried now that Ale and Lorenzo were out of sight. Isabella's father picked up the two carriers, closed his eyes, and stepped through the barrier.

"Come on! Hurry!" Isabella's mother had seized on end of the trunk, definitely anxious at being left alone in so public a place. Isabella grabbed the other end of the trunk and help her mother through the barrier. When she was within an inch of the glass, Isabella instinctively shut her eyes and tensed, as though she impact with it would cause the window to shatter. But it didn't. The window seemed to bend around her, very chilly, then she broke through and the window slowly, like gelatin, moved back into place.

They were on a platform identical to those in the station except that this one was open-aired. The train was waiting there, but it was in every way different from the familiar Hogwarts Express. This was a new, modern electrical train. It was white, with purple streaks running the length of each coach. Golden dragons were painted on the doors that lay at each end of the coach.

Conductors were loading trunks into the last three coaches. Isabella could see Sergio, Rosina, and Lorenzo there already. Sergio was passing off Matrice, his Harris hawk, to another conductor who had a steadily growing pile of cages and carriers growing around his feet.

"Let's go," Isabella's mother said to her husband. They all scurried off after Alessandro and Tina.

"-don't see what one earth you could have packed to make it this heavy," Ale was saying to Tina. "It feels like you brought the Colossus of Nero with you."

"I need clothes, don't I?" she retorted.

"You wear a uniform!"

"So what? There's also makeup and hair-stuff," Tina said. Ale rolled his eyes and passed the purple trunk to one of the conductors.

"Time to say goodbye, I think," Lorenzo said, checking his watch as everyone's belongings were put into the correct hands. Castro's eyes followed Isabella morosely as he was put with the other pets.

Isabella buried her head in her father's shoulder. "It'll be fine," he whispered, hugging he tightly. "Don't you worry." Her mother had slightly different words.

"Now I know you're used to Hogwarts," she said, "but keep on open mind. You'll be fairly safe at the Academia, but not as safe as at home so be careful!"

"You'll have loads of fun," Ale assured her, giving her a one-armed hug. "Promise."

Isabella followed Sergio, Tina, and Rosina onto the train. She had not really known what to expect on the train ride, possibly that they - the Petrrocis - would sit together, but of course that didn't happen. Tina and Rosina immediately found their boyfriends and disappeared with them.

Isabella turned to Sergio and asked, "So, where do you-?"

"Sergio!" A boy with brown, curly hair waved to Sergio.

"Gavino, what's up?" Sergio asked, moving off to join a group of boys his age. They all exchanged greetings and friendly punches before moving off to a different coach. Isabella was left very alone.

Rather than the compartments she was used to, the AI Treno had tables and chairs. One of these tables was empty, so Isabella moved to sit by it, absently twirling her hair. The train lurched into motion and the Roma Termini Station slid away.

"Mind if we sit here?" Isabella turned around, startled, and saw three people standing there. One of them, a boy, had very blonde hair and bright blue eyes. The other two might have been brother and sister, they had brown hair and green eyes.

"No, not at all," she said, moving over.

"Thanks," the brown-haired boy ginned. "I'm Mariano, by the way. Mariano Vinci. This is my sister Angelica."

"Khalid Brust," the blonde boy smiled. He was holding hands with Angelica, indicating a romantic relationship between the two.

"So, we don't recognize you - no offense," Mariano said. He apparently was the spokesman of the group. "And I think I would have noticed someone like you."

Isabella smiled. "Isabella Petrroci. I'm a transfer."

"But you're a Petrroci!" Angelica pointed out. "Every Petrroci has gone to the Academia!"

"My mother worked in England, so I went to school at Hogwarts," Isabella said.

"What was it like?" Mariano asked, leaning forward.

"Well, it was a castle by a lake," Isabella said carefully. She was pretty sure you weren't supposed to tell other schools too many details about your school. "And it was very big. Seven floors, and that isn't including the four towers."

"That's huge!" Mariano said, amazed. "And that's just for that little island?"

"England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland," Isabella nodded. "But the Academia has more countries than Italy, right?"

"Yeah, Khalid here is from Switzerland, the Madder brothers are from Austria, and we've got several people from Greece. So what year are you?"

Levels were very different at the Academia de Italia. They started one year earlier, but most of them spent their fifth years doing internships instead of taking classes. They also didn't have houses, but lived in dorms with girls or boys of their same year.

"Seventh," Isabella said. It was so hard not to say "sixth", which would have been her year if she attended Hogwarts.

"Same with me," Mariano smiled. "Angelica's sixth and so's Khalid."

"They do that differently at Hogwarts, right?" Angelica pronounced the name with difficulty, as though it sounded extremely funny to her but she didn't want to offend Isabella.

"Yes, we are sorted into houses there," Isabella explained. "I was in Ravenclaw. 'Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure'."

"Cool! What other houses were there?"

"Gryffindor, known for daring, nerve, and chivalry; Slytherin, cunning and ambitious; and Hufflepuff, the loyal and true," Isabella thought back to feast after feast of listening to the Sorting hat recite those words and she felt as if, until now, she had never really understood what the hat was trying to say.

"Did you have a mascot at Hogwarts?" Mariano asked. Isabella hadn't realized Hogwarts would be such a topic of interest. "Like our dragon? Was your mascot a hog?"

"No!" Isabella said, defensively. "Our crest included all of the House animals. An eagle for Ravenclaw, a snake for Slytherin, a lion for Gryffindor, and a badger for Hufflepuff."

They lapsed into a comfortable question and answer session. They would ask a question about Hogwarts which Isabella would answer, then she would ask a question about the Academia, which they would answer.

"Could you go swimming in the lake?" Khalid asked.

"I suppose so," Isabella said, thinking of Victor Krum. "But it was very cold and the giant squid lived in it. How long does the train ride take?"

"About five and a half hours. What was the food like?"

"English, but good. They had things like steak and kidney pie and treacle tart, but they also had Yorkshire pudding and crumpets. How do they organize Quidditch teams at the Academia?"

"Well, of course you know about the upper and lower school," Mariano said. Isabella nodded: the upper school was ages 15 through 18 and the lower school was ages 10 through 13. "The upper school and lower school each have their own tryouts. Those who get in are placed randomly on one of three teams: the claws, the horns, or the teeth."

Isabella thought over this. Hermione Granger, a Gryffindor a year older than Isabella, had once suggested that Quidditch divided the school and encouraged animosity between houses. By having the teams all be named after parts of a whole dragon, Isabella thought this nicely combated that issue. But she still wasn't so sure about how 'random' the whole process was. It seem like it would be easy for one team to have just a few of the best players on it.

"Okay, one more question," Mariano said. "Are you hungry? Because there's a snack bar in one of the coaches..." Isabella laughed and followed the three through the snaking train. She had a good look at most of the other students.

It seemed that though the Academia began at a younger age than Hogwarts, there were fewer people on the trains. In fact, if she had counted correctly, the Acadmeia seemed about two-thirds the size of Hogwarts at roughly one-hundred eighty students. Although a vast majority of these were dark haired and brown-eyed, there were several clearly of Austrian and Swiss descent.

The snack bar had Pumpkin Pasties, Licorice Wands, Chocolate Frogs, and Drooble's Gum, but it was missing certain items like Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans and Cauldron Cakes. Instead, they had some sort of chocolate bar in a yellow wrapper with the words, "Calypso Circe's Caramel Chocolate Surprise" written in green. Isabella bought one of these and a coffee.

"Getting a Circe, are you?" Khalid smiled. "Everyone falls in love after the first bite. Heaven on earth, some say." Arching her eyebrows, Isabella unwrapped the yellow paper and bit into the candy bar.

Heaven on earth didn't even begin to cover it.

It was dark chocolate poured over caramel with chunks of almond. Isabella tried not to inhale it, but it was still gone within minutes. To their credit, none of the other three laughed at her, but they did smile a little and looked out the windows.

"How far north is the Academia?" Isabella asked. The school was unplottable, so she had been unable to find its location on a map. But five and half hours seemed impossibly, almost-in-Swizterland far.

"It's up in Valle d'Aosta, you know the place?" Mariano asked. Isabella nodded; the region was difficult and rugged, practically in the Alps. It was going to be very cold in the winter. Isabella disliked being cold, but she supposed there was nothing for it.

Khalid pulled out a pack of exploding snap and they played until both of the boys had burned fingers. Isabella dug in her pocket and produced her Aviatomobile, a flying toy car given to her by Fred and George in a package of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products. The other three were instanstly hooked.

"Adorabile!" Angelica said, watching it hover near the window. "Where did you get it?"

"Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes joke shop," Isabella smiled. "It's the only toy I could fit in my pocket."

"What is this Weasleys?" Khalid asked, examining the car with curiosity. "I've never heard of them."

"You... never? Well, I suppose... in Italy... no," Isabella stammered. "They're only the best joke shop ever! Ten times better than Zonko's!"

"Zonko's? Never heard of them," Mariano said, not looking very interested. "But no one's better than Laughing Agrippa."

"Want to bet?" Isabella smiled, then she emptied her pockets of Edible Dark Marks, Extendable Ears, Ton-Tongue Toffee, Canary Creams, and every flavor of Skivving Snackbox. She refused to let the boys try any of the sweets, except the Canary Cream, but she gave them all an Extendable Ear. She also had Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, but when a much-more interested Mariano asked about it, she just smiled and pocketed it. The powder had bad memories of betrayal, battles, and a dead headmaster.

The joke products entertained them for the rest of the trip. Several people, seeing the amount of fun they were having, came over to see what was going on. Soon Isabella was out of Canary Creams, but she suspected Fred and George were about to get a flood of order forms all postmarked with Italian stamps.

She also learned that the Academia had most of the clubs that Hogwarts had (a Gobstone's Club, Quidditch team fan clubs, Potions club) but not a dueling club or a defense club. Isabella knew the DA had been set up because Umbridge was such an atrocious teacher, but still...

"We're nearly there," Khalid said, looking out the window. Isabella looked and saw that the mountains they had been winding through for the past hour were taller, but the valley was lower. They appeared to be going up into the mountains, higher and higher until the valley was almost lost to sight below. The trees here were all pine and fir, tall and dark sentinels on either side of the tracks.

"You'll get your first view of the Academia soon," Khalid told her. The Al Treno rounded a corner and a huge building came into sight.

Hogwarts was a castle, Beauxbatons was a palace, Durmstrang was a fortress, but the Academia could only be described as a Alpine lodge. It was several stories tall, with large windows that would overlook the mountains and pine forests. It's roof was peaked and hung over the dark wood walls. A huge, stone chimney took up a large part of one side. Purple fringe, bear grass, and moss campion sprung up all around the lodge, brilliant in the late summer warmth.

There appeared to be no station. Rather, the Al Treno simply pulled up to a relatively flat area and everyone began to climb off.

"Get your trunk and I can show you where the dormitory is," Angelica told her. Isabella joined the cue of students trying to collect belongings and narrowly saved Castro from being knocked over by the bustling crowd. The augury was looking around, bright-eyed and excited. He ruffled his feathers and opened his mouth in a silent crow of delight.

Isabella joined Angelica a few minutes later and together they entered the stream of students heading up the gravel path toward the lodge. Up the stone steps, Isabella had a faint impression of a huge room with an enormous fireplace, a wall of windows overlooking the valley below, and a large amount of tables and chairs before Angelica urged her up the stairs. The next floor appeared to be entirely classrooms with a few nooks where chairs and coffee tables nestled.

After that came the dormitories. The girls' rooms were a level below the boys so Isabella and Angelica left the crowd of ascending boys and set off down one of the corridors.

"There are about ten girls in every level," Angelica explained, panting slightly as she dragged her trunk down the purple-carpeted hallways. "So each room has two beds. We won't be together, since we're different ages, but..." They stopped at one of the doors. _7E _was written in golden letters on the door. "This is yours. We have an hour or so before dinner to get unpacked and in uniform. Should I meet you here?"

Isabella agreed and offered to help Angelica with her belongings but the girl simply smiled and shook her head. Opening the door, Isabella peeked into her new room. It was small, with two beds shoved up against the walls. Two desks and a set of chairs were also in here for studying purposes.

Dragging her trunk inside, Isabella set it down beside her bed. She released Portia and Castro from their carriers. The augury immediately fluttered to the window, so Isabella opened it. The view overlooked a path that wound through the fir trees, which Castro flew between, vanishing from sight. Portia crept out of her hamper, unsure of this new place.

The door opened and a golden-haired girl strode in confidently. She had blue glasses and her t-shirt had the logo of the Vienna Vipers, a Quidditch team with a spectacular losing streak.

"Oh," the girl said, looking amazed to find someone sitting in her room. "Hello."

"Hello," Isabella smiled, standing up. "My name is Isabella Petrroci; I transferred here." The girl shook her hand, looking Isabella up and down surreptitiously.

"Zala. Zala Baumschlager," the girl said. "So, I guess you're my roommate."

"I suppose so," Isabella said. "Can I help you with your things?" Zala, in addition to her trunk, had a broomstick and a sleepy-looking owl named Fett. When Zala opened his cage door, Fett took one look and buried his head under his wing.

"So. Um. Where did you come from?" Zala asked awkwardly, opening her trunk and pulling out a rumpled pile of robes.

"England. Well, I technically am from Italy, but my mother worked in England," she said, starting to unpack as well.

"Did you see the world cup?" Zala asked, pinning up a poster of a young man wearing the lime green robes of the Vienna Vipers.

"Yes, I did," Isabella nodded. "My cousin Roberto took me."

"The Keeper of the Padua Panthers?" Zala asked, looking excited.

"That's the one," she confirmed. "Do you play Quidditch?"

"I try out every year," Zala sighed. "But I can't get on the team. I think my broom is too slow."

"What do you have?"

"Bluebottle." Isabella turned to look at the ancient, decrepit broom.

"That might be the problem," she admitted. "I mean, it's a very safe broom..."

"It's slower than a sedated snail," Zala sighed. "I went to see the annual broomstick races in Sweden. You want to know how fast their broom were? One-hundred and fifty miles an hour! Wowzers, huh?"

"My friend Harry has a Firebolt," Isabella nodded. "He almost always gets the Snitch at our games. It drove Cho, our Seeker, off the wall."

"Wait. You're not talking about Harry Potter are you?" Zala asked, riveted. "_The _Harry Potter?"

"Yes, that's him," Isabella nodded.

"Wowzers!" (Isabella was to learn that this was Zala's favorite exclamation). "So what's he like? Is he really the Chosen One? I hear he's on the run, is he on the run? Did he really face He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Is it true he survived the killing curse? Wowzers!"

"Um, Harry's really nice, actually," Isabella said, trying to remember all the questions. "He's a really good teacher, I was in a Defense Club he led two years ago. I don't know if he's the Chosen One, but my grandfather reckons he is. And Leornardo Petrroci is very rarely wrong. I heard Harry's disappeared, but I don't think he'd run away. He's very brave and daring, being a Gryffindor. Yes, he faced You-Know-Who. Several times, in fact. He did survive the killing curse." Isabella wasn't sure if Zala understood any of that, but the girl merely shook her head, blue eyes wide-open and said, "Wowzers."

There was an awed pause on Zala's part, then she asked, "So, do you play Quidditch?"

"Center Chaser," Isabella nodded.

"But where's you broom?" Zala looked around the small room expectantly, as though waiting for some broom to pop out of a hiding place.

"Oh, I'm not doing Quidditch this year," Isabella said, trying to sound off-hand. But it wasn't off-hand. It was most definitely decided... by Leonardo. One evening during dinner Great-Aunt Guilia had been bewailing the unlady-likeness of riding broom sticks. To everyone's surprise, Leonardo had come to her side almost immediately.

"_I agree that Isabella should give up Quidditch. But not because of her gender," he had announced. "I do not wish to denounce the game; Quidditch is a wonderful game that promotes teamwork and diligence. However, I think that, considering our situation, Quidditch offers too many 'accidents' that might be fatal." _

That had been the first time Isabella had been informed of "their situation". Basically, this meant that everyone in Italy knew Leonardo's influence over the Ministry. The rivolta was about overthrowing the Ministry. Leonardo Petrroci stood in the path of the rebels, as did Signor de Pietro. "Their situation" basically meant that everyone was out to kill Leonardo, and it wouldn't matter to them if a few Petrrocis died along the way.

"So, aren't we supposed to get dressed for dinner?" Isabella asked at length.

Zala jumped up from her bed. "Oh yeah, come on. I'll show you where the bathrooms are." There was a bathroom at both ends of each of the seven halls. Zala and Isabella changed in one of these and then hurried back to their rooms. Isabella wasn't sure if she liked the new uniform or having to walk through the hallway to get to the bathroom, but she said nothing.

The uniform was a simple black skirt, white blouse, and purple and gold striped tie with purple robes worn over these. She almost missed the simple black of Hogwarts and the austere blue of Ravenclaw.

Zala, Isabella, and Angelica went down to dinner together. At first, Isabella was confused because she could not remember passing anything that looked like a dining room on the way up. She thought the large room on the first level might be their destination, but they continued down the stairs, passing it. It turned out that, since the school was built on a slope, there was a level under what appeared, from the outside, to be the ground floor. This room contained many round, solid pinewood tables. Mariano, Khalid, and two boys who looked as though they might be twins sat at a table already, so the three girls joined them.

"Isabella, this is Kurt and Dietmar Madder," Mariano introduced her to the newcomers. "Kurt's in our year and Dietmar is in Angelica's class."

"It's nice to meet you," Isabella said, shaking their hands. She could see now the brothers had subtle differences between them. Kurt's hair was just a shade lighter and his eyelashes just a little longer; Dietmar had a sharper jawbone.

"Settle down, now, settle!" a voice called. Isabella looked up from her seat and saw an older looking woman gesturing for them all to be silent. "Welcome to the Academia de Italia!" she beamed at them all. "For those of you who don't know me, I am Professor Bianchi. I am the headmistress here! I'd like to take this time to introduce you all to Professor Hecuba-" A witch with dark hair braided back smiled "-and Professor Francis-" A rather fat, jovial looking man stood and waved. "The heads of the lower and upper schools. Now, before we begin our dinner, I have a few announcements.

"First-years would do well to note that while walking in the Enchanted Wood, you are absolutely forbidden from leaving the sight of the path. Magic should not be used in the hallways without the supervision of a teacher. Quidditch trials will be held the second week of term. If you wish to try out, please turn in your name to Senior Mosca." A man possibly of Spanish origin with prematurely greying hair nodded when Professor Bianchi gestured to him.

"Now we shall delay dinner no further," Professor Bianchi smiled. "Lower school, please remember that curfew is at ten o'clock for you. Upper school, be in your rooms at eleven. Now, begin!" She clapped her hands.

Just like at Hogwarts, food appeared on the tables. But the cuisine ranged from ravioli to liptauer to cervelat to horta. Isabella couldn't help but notice that everyone at the table instantly reached for their own nationality's food. Even she was guilty, passing over the tafelspitz for the trenette. _So, _she thought wryly, _Even without houses there is still some division._


	5. First Day

Isabella, Zala, Angelica, Mariano, Khalid, Kurt, and Deitmar stayed up that night in the large Main Hall. There were many cushy armchairs and mahogany coffee tables so Isabella was sure the place would be a good study area. It also appeared to serve as a sort of common room for the entire school.

The Academia was smaller and younger than Hogwarts. Everything was laid out neatly and close together with no rambling staircases or vanishing doors. There were also very few pictures. Instead, there were wide windows overlooking the Enchanted Wood or the valley with the Muggle village far below. Isabella, who had grown accustomed to the constantly moving, talking, and smiling portraits at Hogwarts was beginning to miss the castle a little.

_But of course it isn't the same, _she told herself darkly. Now that Snape was headmaster, Isabella was very sure that Hogwarts was not at all how it used to be. He probably kept all the windows shut and the rooms dark so you couldn't even see the walls anymore so that it didn't matter whether there were any pictures.

There were also no ghosts at the Academia. Isabella spent a good few minutes wondering this was an improvement. Thinking of Peeves, she decided it was.

It transpired that the library filled the top floor, which was technically the attic. Isabella hoped to go up and have a look the next day.

She was only taking Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, and Arithmancy. Those were the ones she had managed to scrape O's in, but she had passed all of her other subjects.

It turned out that this left huge amounts of time open in her schedule, but she was still taking more classes than most people. The classes were ridiculously easy to find, all being located on the first floor, with the exception of Astronomy (which had squeezed itself into a potion of the library) and Herbology (whose greenhouses were accessible by tunnels in the winter).

Professor Hecuba was the Charms teacher. She had a warm smile and spoke in a lilted, accented voice that indicated Middle-Eastern origin. The lesson was all about Memory Charms and their proper application. They were assigned an essay on how Memory Charms were used in conjuncture with the International Statute of Secrecy.

Professor Francis, the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, spent the day lecturing on the dangers of Acromantulas, but assuring the class that, as the giant spiders lived in South America, they were in absolutely no danger. Isabella, who had heard of the tarantula-like beasts living in the Forbidden Forest, wasn't so sure.

Her Uncle Valentino taught her Arithmancy the next day. It felt very odd to call him Professor Petrroci, so she usually resorted to calling him "Sir". Over the summer the two of them had been discussing her plans for counteracting Fiendfyre. At the end of class, Valentino finished by saying, "Good work today. Remember to finish the problems at the back of the chapter for next class. Miss Petrroci, would you mind staying after a few moments?"

Isabella hung back. Valentino waited until all the other students were gone before striding over to her desk and giving her a hug.

"Everything okay?" he asked. "I saw you with Mariano Vinci, are you friends?" The way he said "friends" made Isabella positive her meant "an item". He seemed unnaturally concerned about this.

"Yes, I'm fine. A little homesick for Hogwarts, but okay."

"Good. I just wanted to tell you that I sent in our finished calculations to the Ministry last night. Signor de Piero tells me that he's planning on putting the same protection on several of the major wizarding and Muggle sites."

"That's cool," Isabella smiled.

"Anyway, you'd best get to your next class," Valentino said, giving her another hug and handing her her textbook. "Have a good day!"

The teacher for Potions was a thin, wispy-looking woman. She had a distinct greenish tone to her hair and skin. Her eyes were large bright green.

"She's half-dryad," Angelica whispered to Isabella. "So she's knows everything about plants and ingredients for Potions."

"Why isn't she the Herbology teacher?" Isabella asked.

"I don't know. She just got here three years ago," Angelica shrugged. "And Professor Hyacinth has been the Herbology teacher for ages."

The half-dryad was named Signora Clymene. She was very soft spoken - a sharp contrast to both Professors Snape and Slughorn - with gentle hands that were constantly in motion. She set them all working on a Beautifying Potion, which was supposed to make the drinker more lovely in appearance.

"No, dear, you have to pour the bubotuber pus very slowly," Signora Clymene told Isabella, holding her hand steady. "Can you tell me why we add bubotuber pus?"

"Um, it cures pimples, right?" Isabella asked, watching the foul smelling, thick liquid pour into her potion.

"Very good," the teacher said. "Yes, now stir it counter-clockwise... Wonderful."

Isabella left that Potions class feeling as though she had never brewed a better potion. Signora Clymene had a soft way of advising and helping students that gently nudged their potions the right way.

The next day the seventh years had Defense Against the Dark Arts, taught by a tall, grey-haired man named Professor Hadrian. He earned Isabella's immediate respect by talking about what he called "The England Situation" and warning the class how it could affect them.

"In case The England Situation gets out of hand and we are endangered, I'd like to focus this year on discussing various Dark Magics used by You-Know-Who and how to combat them. Have any of you heard of Inferi?" A few students raised their hands, including Isabella.

"Ah, you there," Professor Hadrian nodded to her. "Name, please?"

"Isabella Petrroci," she said.

"All right Miss Petrroci, what is an inferi?"

"It's a corpse animated by Dark Wizards to do their bidding," Isabella answered. She had learned about them last year when the English Ministry of Magic had sent her father pamphlets warning about various attacks and how to protect your family from them.

"Correct," Professor Hadrian said gravely. "They are different from ghosts in that a ghost is the disembodied spirit of a witch or wizard but an Inferi had no thought or purpose of its own other than to serve its maker. As You-Know-Who used these in The First England Situation, it is possible he will use them again."

The next class was Transfiguration. Isabella wasn't sure if she was excited or nervous about that class. It was possible that it would be boring, as Isabella had covered a large area of advanced Transfiguration last year in Professor McGonagall's private tutoring sessions. It was also possible that the teacher would be unhappy that Isabella knew so much.

The Transfiguration classroom, like all the others, had a splendid view of the mountains on the far side of the valley. It turned out that Senior Mosca, whom Isabella had assumed only taught flying lessons like Madam Hooch, also taught Transfiguration. Unlike Professor McGonagall's room, there were no cages with animals to be used for practice. Isabella thought this immensely strange as transfiguration of animals began in second year at Hogwarts.

"Is he a very good teacher?" Isabella asked Zala.

"Oh, he's amazing!" her roommate assured her.

"Settle down, everyone!" Senior Mosca said in heavily accented Italian. "Quiet! Order please, order!"

When everyone was silent and in their seats, Senior Mosca smiled down on all of them. "Well, I must offer my congratulations to you all for passing another year of transfiguration. I can only assume my superior teaching skills are responsible." All of the students laughed and Senior Mosca smiled.

"Now who wants to here about my trip to India?" Senior Mosca asked. Every hand in the room except Isabella's shot into the air. "Right. At the beginning of the summer I took my Nimbus 2000 broomstick and flew to India. Well, of course I had to make several stops on the way there and one of those stops was in Cyprus, lovely country."

Isabella began to notice that the students, who had at first seemed so eager to hear the story, were no longer paying attention. In fact, most of them were writing notes to each other, reading magazines under the desk, or (in the case of a few of the more diligent students) pulling out homework to work on.

"Anyway, the local villagers on the island were being plagued by a Griffin which was said to be guarding the treasure of Herpo the Foul. Naturally, I volunteered my service," Senior Mosca continued, utterly unperturbed that no one was listening to him. He suddenly reminded Isabella very strongly of her first Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher: Gilderoy Lockart.

He kept going on and on so that after fifteen minutes, he still hadn't gotten past Cyprus. Isabella finally raised her hand.

"Yes? Do you have a question about my story?" Senior Mosca asked. Everyone stopped whatever it was they were doing and turned to stare at Isabella.

"No, sir. I was just wondering when we were going to begin the lesson," she said pointedly. Kurt looked at her like she had two heads.

"I'm telling a story," Senior Mosca said, mirroring Kurt's incredulous look. "Now where was I? Oh yes. So after I had subdued the Kappa... What is it now?" He asked Isabella, looking supremely annoyed. Her classmates were also throwing her dirty looks.

"Are you not going to teach us at all?" Isabella demanded.

"If you would just listen to the story you will learn how I drove the Griffin from his lair by riding on the Kappa's back," Senior Mosca said haughtily, turning firmly away from her.

"Does he always do this?" Isabella asked in a not-very-quiet whisper.

"Well, yes..." Mariano shrugged.

"You said he was brilliant!" she rounded on Zala.

"He's a great Quidditch player!" her roommate said defensively.

"Ah yes, Quidditch," Senior Mosca said fondly, evidently just catching the last comment of their conversation. "Did I ever tell you about the time I caught the Snitch with two seconds to spare in the match the Madrid Mantacores played against the Quiberon Quafflepunchers?"

Giving up all hope, Isabella spent the next hour and a half transforming her quill pen into a porcupine quill and back.

Later, Isabella stormed around Valentino's office. "He doesn't teach! He just sits there and tells ridiculous, made-up life stories!"

"How do you know they're made-up?" Valentino asked, shuffling papers on his desk.

"Kappa's are Japanese Water demons but he says he found one in Cyprus," Isabella explained. "Plus there's no way a grown wizard could ride on one's back."

"No one else has complained about him in the two years he's been here," he sighed, dropping papers on the floor and having to stoop down and pick them up.

"Of course not! They get away without doing any work," Isabella said, throwing her hands up in the air.

"I think you are overreacting," Valentino said, replacing the papers on the stack and tapping them with his wand. The stack of papers levitated and silently floated to a cabinet, which opened so that the paper could sail onto the topmost shelf.

"I am not! I just want a decent Transfiguration teacher-"

"No, you want Minerva McGongall," Valentino said, standing and looking at her much too understandingly. "You want to go back to Hogwarts. Well, you can't. Because Leonardo told you you couldn't. So I suggest you settle in and sit through whatever ridiculous, long, made-up stories Mosca tells you."

Isabella stared at her Uncle for a moment. Then she turned on her heel and strode away.


	6. The Enchanted Wood

Mariano, Zala, and Angelica practically dragged Isabella out into the Enchanted Wood when the weekend came. Outside, most of the students were sunning themselves and chatting amiably rather than doing the piles of homework they had brought out with them.

"So, do you want to work on the Memory Charm essay?" Isabella asked the three of them. Mariano lay sprawled in the grass, his face blissful in the warm sun. Angelica was plucking pieces of grass and braiding them together.

"Oh, can't we just ignore homework for today?" Zala asked, leaning back against a rock. Isabella stared at them all. Never, in the five years she had lived in Ravenclaw Tower, had anyone suggested not doing homework.

"I guess so," she said slowly, feeling incredibly rebellious as she put up her parchment and quill. As she looked around, she noticed that all of the students outside were like heliophiles, turning their faces towards the sun. With a jolt, Isabella realized that for them, this was one of the last days of summer. Autumn would be upon them soon and, this high in the mountains, it would surely be a cold one.

"Hey, Vinci!" someone shouted. Mariano sat up straight, looking wild. He clearly recognized the slim, black-haired boy who called out to him from a group of fellows. "Hanging out with your girlfriends? Oh wait, they can't be your girlfriends, because you're-"

"Shut up, Pandaros!" Angelica shouted shrilly. Zala looked embarrassed and as though she wished to be anywhere but here. Mariano had turned white and had frozen.

"That's right, defend your brother, even if he is a fa-" the other boy, Pandaros taunted. Isabella, who had heard enough of the word, felt her face drain of blood.

"Come on, let's go," she mumbled to Zala. Taking Mariano's hand, she hauled him up and led him down one of the many paths into the Wood, glancing back over her shoulder. Pandaros's friends were snickering, but he himself was looking right back at Isabella. She felt herself go cold with anger and continued to lead Mariano away to avoid going back and punching the cruel boy in the face.

Mariano said nothing, but looking shaken and slightly sick. Angelica was clearly torn between comforting her brother and raging against Pandaros, so she fell silent and hovered after Mariano. When they were far enough down the path that they could no longer see nor hear the other students, Mariano dropped Isabella's hand and wandered over to the side of the path. He leaned against a tree, his face turned away from her.

A bird called and it's fluttering shadow crossed the path between him and the girls.

"It doesn't matter to me," Isabella said quietly.

"What doesn't?" Mariano asked, stiffening.

"That you're gay. I don't care," Isabella announced, crossing to him and placing a hand gently on his shoulder. "You're still a person, like the rest of us. All this means is that we can talk about dress robes together." Mariano gave a shaky laugh and pushed himself off the tree. Isabella hugged him briefly.

"Who was that?" she asked Zala and Angelica.

"Pandaros Aiskhúlos," Angelica spat. "A Greek." Before Isabella could asked anymore, however, a faint noise came over the breeze.

"Was that-?" Zala asked, but it came again, a little louder and much more terrified. Someone was screaming. Isabella took off running into the woods. She heard Mariano and Zala following close behind but Angelica shouted, "We're aren't supposed to leave sight of the path!" Not waiting to see if Angelica did follow, Isabella pelted ahead, pulling out her wand as she went. The screams stopped, but there was a frantic splashing sound that led her to the bank of a large pond.

It was glassy and green with reeds and mud all around its sides. There was a book bag dropped near a tree, ink bottle and text book opened. Muddy footprints led straight to the water. As Isabella cleared the trees, a pale white hand splashed up from the water and then disappeared with hardly a splash.

Without stopping, Isabella tore off her purple school robes and waded into the water, still wearing the rest of her uniform. When she was waist deep, she ducked her head under.

It was murky and greenish-grey beneath the surface. Everything was very silent and very calm. Isabella began to swim towards the center of the pond, where the hand had made one last desperate bid.

Something grabbed her ankle and tiny, needle-like teeth bit her. Looking back, Isabella saw a Grindylow latched onto her, ginning its sharp teeth at her. Pointing her wand at it, Isabella said, "_Imepimenta!_" The Grindylow was blasted away and fell back into the reeds at the bottom of the pond. Isabella kicked towards the surface and gulped in air before diving down once more.

Although she had never cast a nonverbal spell, Isabella knew she would soon have no choice. Waving her wand widely through the water she thought as hard as she could: "_Homenum Revelio_." A current-like movement rippled through the water. Suddenly, the ripple changed direction and began to flow back to her from the bottom of the pond. She altered direction and began to swim towards the place the current was coming from.

The water was so dark and cloudy, Isabella couldn't see them until she was practically on top of them. It was a Kelpie, shaped like a horse with long, trailing reeds for a mane and sharp teeth. But instead of hooves, it had long talons which gripped a young boy, who was clearly losing conscious as his struggles became weaker and weaker.

"_Arania Exumai_!" Isabella thought, pointing her wand at the Kelpie. The demon squealed as it was hurled back from the boy, who began to sink slowly. Isabella swam forward and seized him around the waist. Throwing him over her shoulder, she kicked out as hard as she could and made for the sickly sunlight above.

Isabella's head broke the surface of the pond and she gasped for air. There was a shriek of relief off to her left. Treading water, Isabella turned to see Zala, Angelica, and Mariano standing on the bank of the pond.

"_Carpe... Carpe Retractum_," she stuttered, pointing her wand at a sturdy looking pine tree. A rope shot from the tip of her wand and secured itself to the tree. Slowly, the rope began to shorten, pulling her and the limp boy into shore.

Soon Isabella could stand and she waded through the shallows, kicking off the reeds that tangled around her legs. She bent down and lay the boy on the ground. Angelica knelt beside him and felt for a pulse.

"I think... I think he's alive," she stammered uncertainly. "But he isn't breathing."

Pointing her wand at the boy's throat, Isabella said, "_Anapneo_!" Instantly he turned on his side and began to vomit water. Zala leapt back, her shoes narrowly avoiding the gush of pond water.

"He's okay!" Angelica shouted, relieved. The little boy sat up, his blue eyes wide. _He can't be more than ten!_ Isabella thought, smiling at him.

"You s-saved me," the boy stammered. Mariano handed Isabella her slightly muddy robes and she put them around the boy's shoulders.

"You're safe now," she told him.

"It l-looked so f-f-friendly!" he told her, looking past her to the water.

"Yes, they do," Isabella said soothingly. "Come on, let's get you inside." But when she straightened up, Isabella found she could not even remember from which way they had run.

"Where's the path?" she asked the other three, who looked very worried.

"We don't know," Zala said, glancing over her shoulder.

"What do you mean? Don't you remember which way we came from?"

"It's the Enchanted Wood. When you leave sight of the path, you can't find your way back," Zala explained.

"Well, what do we do?" Isabella sighed. The other three looked at her blankly while the boy shivered. She sighed and, unable to think of anything else to do, shot five red sparks into the air with her wand. They hung there, glittering and hopefully visible in the Academia.

"What's your name?" Angelica kindly asked the boy.

"Sedgwick," he said quietly, sounding miserable. Mariano went to collect the boy's belongings and put the book bag over his own shoulder as Isabella and Angelica helped Sedgwick stand up.

Someone was coming through the woods. They rounded the last of the pine trees and moved into the sight of the students. It was Professors Hecuba and Francis, both of whom had wands at the ready. Seeing the dripping wet students, they hurried forwards.

"It's against the rules to leave the path!" Professor Francis panted. "And for good reason. Good God, have you two been swimming in Kelpie Pond? Don't you know how dangerous...?"

"I left the path, sir," Sedgwick said, looking miserable. "I wanted a quiet place to study and I... I didn't know... the horse looked so gentle... But it began to frighten me and I screamed. This girl came in after me. She saved me." He jabbed a thumb at Isabella.

"Well, you are both very lucky!" Professor Hecuba said. Pointing her wand at both of them, Isabella felt a blast of warm air that dried her sopping wet uniform. "Kelpies are very dangerous. This particular one has been brought here by Professor Francis to study."

"Is that why there are Grindylows in there?" Isabella asked.

"You saw a Grindylow?" Professor Francis sounded excited. "What did it do?"

"It bit me," Isabella said, showing the holes in her socks.

"How did you stop it?" he asked. "Come to think of it, what happened to the Kelpie?"

"I used the Spider-killing Curse," she told him. "It seemed to work okay. Just blasted the Kelpie back, maybe stunned it a little."

"Amazing!" Professor Francis exclaimed. "Fascinating! I say, young Sedgwick, you were very lucky it was Miss Petrroci who heard you, very lucky indeed. Now, about getting back...?" He looked to his colleague.

"Point me!" Professor Hecuba ordered her wand. It spun in her grasp and pointed into the thick of the pine trees. "This way, everyone!" she said, waving them forward.


	7. Letters

"Hey."

Isabella looked up from her Arithmancy notes. She had been studying in the singularly inadequate library while the rest of her friends were in Herbology. Pandaros stood there, looking very pleased with himself. She could see his friends in the background, looking impressed and watching the two of them.

"Hello," she said coldly, turning her a page of notes and reading the chart on the back.

"So we should go out," Pandaros announced.

"I don't know you," she replied, not even bothering to look up.

"My name's Pandaros Aiskhúlos," he said immediately. "And you're Isabella Petrroci. See, I already know you."

"Do you want an award or something?" Isabella asked, rolling her eyes. A brief flash of annoyance crossed Pandaros' face, but he hid it with a quick smile and sat down on the arm of her chair. Isabella calmly collected her notes and stood up. Picking up her book bag she put her notes in and slung the strap over her shoulder.

"Where are you going?" Pandaros asked, standing as well.

"As far away from you as I can," she retorted. Now he was angry in earnest.

"What, am I not good enough for you, Italy?" he snapped. "Too Greek for you? Or are you dating that fa-"

"Don't call him that!" she snarled. She might have pulled out her wand and dueled him then and there, but Madam Jacqueline, the librarian, was looking their way. Instead, Isabella bit her lip, threw Pandaros the dirtiest look she could muster, and left the library.

She retreated to the girl's dorms, intent on closeting herself in her room and studying. But when she got there, Isabella saw Castro sitting on the bed, looking highly pleased with himself. He had been missing for that first week of classes and now she could see why. Six envelopes lay on her bed.

Castro crooned silently as she dropped her book bag in the corner and practically jumped on the bed as the first snowflakes of the year began to fall, twirling gracefully, past her window.

"Ben cotto, mia bella," she smiled, stroking his feathers as she ripped open the first envelope.

"Dearest Bella,

I hope that you are doing well. You have not written to us and this concerns your mother greatly. You must learn, in these times, to be overcareful in your correspondence.

Have you made any new friends? I know that at Hogwarts you were particularly attached to your old friends, but there are many new and wonderful people at the Academia for you to meet.

Are your classes going well? Do you like your teachers? How is Valentino?

Florean seems to get under everyone's feet. At least he has the good sense to avoid your grandfather! I must admit I understand how he is feeling. It is horrible to sit in the house every day while all of your aunts and uncles go off to work, doing useful things and fighting back. I feel so useless.

My fondest love,

Papi"

The next letter was written in neat, slanted handwriting.

"Bella,

I am writing to confirm that I have received your plans from your Uncle Valentino. They look perfect! I cannot express how much your ideas will benefit our nation. Hundreds of lives may be spared because of you.

I hope you are enjoying the Academia, a fine institution of excellent merit. You will learn many wonderful things in these days of academic study, but I hope you also have made friends with other students from Italy.

Sincerely,

Basilio"

Isabella could not help but stare as the last sentence for a while. "_With other students from Italy_." There seemed to be a deep-seated nationality she had been unaware of until being thrown into an environment with Italians and other nations. And it wasn't one-sided:

"_What, am I not good enough for you, Italy? Too Greek for you?"_

Casting aside this letter, Isabella picked up one with very familiar handwriting, but the words and letters seemed scrambled around. She had to tap this letter once with her wand and then turn it over three times saying "Dumbledore's Army" with each turn. This was the system she and Luna had developed for reading each other's messages.

"Hello Bella,

I do miss you this year. There are very few people anymore who will listen to Daddy's theories about the Rotfang conspiracy or Heliopaths. But I don't mind so much; Morgan and Alex are always very kind to me.

Hogwarts really isn't the same anymore. There are these two Death Eaters, a brother and a sister, who teach Defense Against the Dark Arts (except that it isn't anymore, it's just the Dark Arts) and Muggle Studies, which is just awful. You wouldn't stand for it, you really wouldn't. That's because people like you who have been bitten by Gulping Plimpies usually are quite open-minded and rebellious.

Snape encourages corporal punishment. That what we have to do in the Dark Arts class, we torture people who have detention. It was really terrible. Little Nigel Wespurt- do you remember him?- he was caught doing magic in the hallway. Amycus (that's the name of the Death Eater) was going to make Neville perform the Cruciartus Curse on Nigel, but Neville wouldn't do it. They hurt him pretty badly for that.

The _Daily Prophet _isn't very informative, but it never really was, was it? Not like Potterwatch or_The Quibbler_. Speaking of which, I've enclosed a copy. Daddy and I were so pleased at how its subscriptions suddenly increased when Daddy wrote an article about helping Harry Potter. I suggested that perhaps if we made half the magazine about Harry and half about Crumpled Horn Snorkaks, the next issue would sell very well.

I hope your school is nice and you are making friends. You must tell me if there is a colony of Wrackspurts there.

Thank you for being my friend,

Luna."

Isabella was horrified and outraged by the letter. Her hands were shaking and burning tears filled her eyes from fury rather than sorrow. She had half a mind to jump on her broomstick, fly to England, and duel Snape and this Amycus person. Then she remembered that she had left her broomstick at home.

She placed the letter aside and picked up another two: from Alex and Morgan. They basically said the exact same thing, only without the references to the Rotfang Conspiracy, Heliopaths, Gulping Plimpies, Crumple Horn Snorkaks, or Wrackspurts.

Alex was terrified because she was only a half-blood and - though that was apparently "adequate blood lineage" - she was afraid of being kicked out. One part of her letter gave Isabella hope, though, of the resistance being carried on against the Carrows and Snape:

"As for Dumbledore's Army, Neville, Luna, and Ginny are still trying to keep it up and going. They usually just sneack out of the dorms and write things like, 'Dumbledore's Army, Still Recruiting,'. It drives Snape up the wall every time. Of course, I don't do it. That's just plain vandalism. But I, and a lot of the other students, really like it. Gives us hope, you know? That was the thing about the DA: active resistance."

Isabella re-read this part and smiled. She should have known Luna, Neville, and Ginny would not take this treatment lying down. But she was still worried for them. Snape _knew_ who had been in the secret Defense Against the Dark Arts society. He _knew_ who had been at the Department of Mysteries... suddenly, Isabella was very glad she was no longer at Hogwarts.

The last letter was from Fred and George. It was written hastily, and not in code because, of course, the twins did not know the spell the four girls had come up with last year.

"Hey,

Not much time. Shop's doing well. Worried about trouble on the official end ever since wedding.

Listen: PW. WL. Ph.

You good? Hope you enjoy school.

F&GW"

It took a few moments to decipher. It appeared that this letter had been written by George; Isabella recognized the handwriting as being his, at any rate. As far as she could tell, the reason they didn't have time to write was not only because their joke shop was doing well, but also because of "trouble on the official end", which Isabella could only assume meant the English Ministry of Magic, which was now under the control of Voldemort.

"Listen: PW. WL. Ph." she read out loud. "PW? Percy Weasley? Purple water? WL? Wood lice? Weasley... something? Ph... Philosopher? Phineas? Or maybe... that's it! Phoenix! And PW..." Isabella snatched Luna's letter up and scanned it again. There it was: _"The _Daily Prophet_ isn't very informative, but it never really was, was it? Not like Potterwatch or _The Quibbler_."_

"PW. Potterwatch!" Isabella realized. "But what on earth could it be? Damn it George! What are you trying to tell me? Potterwatch... Phoenix..."

Checking her watch, Isabella knew there was just enough time to write back before dinner.


	8. Ancient Grudge

"Why couldn't you have shown me that before?" Isabella demanded. She was sitting in the Main Hall with Khalid, Mariano, Angelica, Kurt, Deitmar, and Zala. The others were grinning like fools and even Isabella could barely keep a straight face.

"Well, the rest of us learned it first-year..." Mariano said, evidently struggling not to laugh. "It just never occurred to us..."

"That I might be freezing all the time?" Isabella said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Five weeks! Five weeks of three feet tall snowdrifts and you can't think to tell me one simple heating charm for my robes?"

"It's explained to all the first-years in their Charms class," Khalid explained. Angelica was leaning against his shoulder and trying to hide her smile with one hand. "But the rest of us like to watch them freeze for a while."

"And the snowdrifts have only been three feet tall for the past couple of days," Zala corrected.

"I hate you. All of you," Isabella said. Then she burst out laughing. It was infectious and soon all of them were gasping for air and wiping tears of mirth from their eyes. A bell rang, interrupting them.

"That's lunch time," Kurt said, standing and offering Zala a hand. The rest of them clambered to their feet and joined the rest of the student body as it began to pour out of the Main Hall and down the stairs.

Suddenly someone grabbed Isabella's arm. She could feel their finger tighten on her magically-warmed sleeve as they pulled her aside. It was Pandaros.

"What do you want?" she demanded, trying to shake his arm off. There were still a good number of people in the Hall, taking their time. All of Pandaros's friends were standing nearby, watching and nudging each other.

"Let me go!" she insisted, once again trying to throw him off. She had the horrible feeling that her discomfort was amusing to his friends.

"I will... if you kiss me," he said.

"What?" Isabella said, caught off guard. "Siete pazzesco?" But Pandaros had seized her other arm and backed her against the wall. She struggled, but there was no way she could reach her wand. And he was grinning in anticipation, his face getting closer...

There was a loud bang and Pandaros's grip was wrenched away as he was pushed back a few feet.

The most unlikely of rescuers stood there, wand still raised: Sergio. Isabella had not spoken very much with any of her cousins since her first day, but here Sergio was, looking livid. And Tina and Rosina were at his back, looking slightly nervous.

"Leave her alone, Aiskhúlos!" Sergio snarled. There was a movement off to the side. Isabella turned and saw that all of Pandaros's friends had drawn their wands. Pandaros did as well, smirking.

"Oh yeah? Who's going to stop me from doing whatever I want, Italian?" he sneered. To her surprise (Isabella never expected either of them to do this outside of a classroom) Tina and Rosina drew their wands from beneath their purple robes and pointed them, unsteadily, towards Pandaros's gang.

"Isabella, what's-?" Mariano had come back up the staircase with Angelica, Khalid, and Deitmar. Without question, both Mariano and Angelica joined the twin girls at Sergio's back. The quarrel between Isabella and Pandaros had absorbed the attention of everyone remaining in the Main Hall.

There was a subtle, but general shift in the Hall. It seemed that every Italian in the room was coming to stand behind Sergio. Likewise, every Greek moved to Pandaros. Everyone of Aryan descent looked uncomfortable and backed away, averting their eyes. For the first time, Isabella saw the school truly divided.

"What's going on?" a voice called over them all. Isabella's heart sank as she recognized Senior Mosca pushing his way between the two groups. "Wands away, children!" he scolded. "No magic without supervision! Why aren't you down at lunch? We can't all survive two months on nothing but sweet air, clean water, and a single loaf of bread like I once did in the summer of '76-" Wands were gradually stowed away, but the two groups continued to cast loathing looks at each other.

Isabella excused herself early from dinner and the concerned looks of her friends to dart up to the library before it closed. She hurried down one of the shelves with books on the history of magic. There were several dozen about Italy and several dozen about Greece, but only one title mentioning both: _The Ancient Feud: Why the Greeks and the Italians Hate Each Other_.

Flipping it open to the first page, Isabella scanned over the beginning of the first chapter.

"_The mutual animosity between the wizards of Greece and the wizards of Italy traces its roots back to the long-standing feud between the Ancient Greeks and the Romans, a feud begun in blood during the Trojan War. _

_Research now indicates that a significant amount of magic was used during the Trojan War. For example, Helen was generally know to be an enchantress with great skills in the brewing of philters. It has been suggested that it was she who brewed the first batch of Amortentia in order to woo the young Trojan prince, Paris, and convince him to carry her away. _

_Some have even ventured to guess that the duel of Hector and Achilles, the Trojan and Greek heros respectively, was just that: a wizard's duel. Although they are documented as having used spears, it could be that some staff or primitive wand was the actual weapon of this fight. _

_Whatever the case, Troy was almost completely destroyed. A very small group of people escaped, led by Aeneas. Wizards have long since claimed that one of the images of the gods Aeneas carried from the ruins of Troy was that of Hecate, but again, as the records of the war were written only by Muggles, there is no source of this information. _

_Aeneas went on to become the father of Rome. His entire nation destroyed, his cousin Hector brutally killed, and the last remnants of his people on the run, Aeneas naturally could have held a grudge agains the Greeks. Many Italians still carry that grudge close to their hearts, though very few now remember why._

_That is not to say that the Greeks are the only guilty party here. When Rome grew more powerful, and its wizards more learned under the protection of Hecate, the fledging empire set its sight on the peninsula to the East. _

_Rome established dominance in a short, but bloody conflict. The primary battle line was actually fought between the witches and wizards of both countries. Though the Greeks possessed more learned, more experienced sorcerers, the Roman magicians were more powerful and fought their opponents with magic and swords. To this day, the Greeks accuse the Romans of foul play by using Muggle weapons in a wizarding war. _

_The Roman destruction of Corinth, the Greek capital, is often seen as vengeance for the fall of Troy. However, the feud did not die with the Romans. Italian and Greek wizards have such an infamous hatred of each other, that they are very seldom seem attending the same International Confederation of Wizards' conferences, which has often created problems within the institution. The only times Greeks and Italians have attended the same conference, there have been duels. In 1883, Greek Minister of Magic Drakos Georgiadis left with large purple boils all over his face. _

_The only instance of Greek and Italian witches and wizards coexisting is the Academia de Italia, located so far in northern Italy it is often considered to be in Switzerland. On this almost neutral ground, young generations of magic-users live and learn peacefully with students from the other country."_

"Coexist, yes. Peaceful? Highly doubtful," Isabella murmured, replacing the book and leaving the attic library. Madam Jacqueline shut the door right behind her, as though she had been waiting for Isabella to leave.

The explanation had been good, far better than anyone could give her. An ancient grudge... break to new mutiny... parents' strife... yes, very "Romeo and Juliet". Hadn't Professor Binns once told her Shakespeare was a moderately talented wizard? Had he, perhaps, been writing about a real feud? Would there be any star-crossed lovers? And would their deaths' end this pointless quarrel? Isabella didn't know, it made her head spin. One thing she knew for sure: no way was she going to be star-crossed with Pandaros.


	9. Viva Italia!

Isabella supposed the idea began when she first met Caterina Giorgio. She was curled up in a chair in one of the many nooks of the hallways. Her long dirty blonde air fell over her face and she was shaking with sobs. Isabella and Angelica, the only other people in the hallway, stopped and tried to comfort the eighth-year girl.

"My b-brother Silvano," the girl sobbed, burying her face in Angelica's shoulder. "He's d-d-dead. The re-revoltso k-killed him."

"Hush, now," Angelica soothed, rubbing the girl's back. "It's going to be all right."

"Was he a wizard?" Isabella asked gently.

"Y-yes. Silvano - he was so, so, g-good!" Caterina wailed. Isabella saw a piece of folded parchment on the coffee table. She picked it up and read a little.

It appeared that Silvano worked for the Italian Ministry of Magic as an intern with the Department of Magical Games and Sports. The cause of death was certainly an attack by a revoltso, the reason of the attack was unknown. The Aurors were pretty sure only one attacker had been present. It bothered Isabella that he was a recent graduate of the Academia. Surely he had known how to defend himself?

"_Well, you'd be surprised how many Ministry officials can't cast a Shield Charm to save their life, which, you know, is what a Shield Charm is for." _Fred Weasley had once told her.

Come to think of it, Isabella had seen very little practical magic done at school. When she had saved Sedgwick, no one but Isabella had used magic. When Sergio and Pandaros had been seconds away from dueling in the Main Hall, no one had actually cast a spell. At Hogwarts, if those had been Gryffindors and Slytherins, there would have been no formal taking of sides. It would have been a free for all. So the Academia graduates hadn't practiced magic as much as Hogwarts graduates. Did that mean that they were less prepared to defend themselves in a fight? Would Silvano Giorgio still be alive if he had been in the DA?

Cho Chang had once suggested the name Defense Association for the DA. What if that's what it had been, instead of the defiant secret kept by so many students for so long? What if they had had the support of the school? Not strictly a defense club, but a cross between defense and dueling, a place to learn how to fight and to protect.

If the revoltoso were hunting down family members, if the rivolta was up against the doors of the students' homes... How many students would want to learn? To train? To fight?

Isabella lay awake most of that night, those same thoughts swirling around her head. For someone who valued sleep above almost every other pastime, this was almost unheard of.

The next morning at breakfast Isabella tentatively asked, "Hey guys, how many of you would be interested in... in a sort of dueling cum defense club?"

"Awesome," Mariano said, spreading mustard on his slices of ham. "I'm in."

"Me too," Kurt and Deitmar said together.

"I don't know..." Angelica said warily. "Isn't that what Defense Against the Dark Arts class is about?"

"Yes, but the thing is, all we do is learn to fight the Dark Arts," Isabella said carefully. She had anticipated this question and thought out an answer last night as she lay awake. "But the revoltso aren't Dark. They're our countrymen, perhaps misguided..."

"Totally misguided," Mariano interrupted.

"But our countrymen nonetheless. We would not fight them as we fight the Dark wizards Professor Hadrian teaches us about. We would duel them in a fair fight." Isabella fell silent and looked around. "So... you would join?"

"Well, who would lead? Professor Hadrian?" Angelica asked.

"'Course not," Zala scoffed. "Isabella's the leader. Aren't you?"

"Well, we would have to vote..."

"Right, so Isabella's leader," Mariano interrupted yet again. "Now we just need a meeting time and place."

"And a sponsor, don't forget a sponsor!" Angelica insisted.

"A sponsor?" Isabella asked.

"You can't have a club, especially not a club where we would be using magic, without a teacher supervisor," Angelica explained.

"Well -" Isabella thought about this unexpected requirement. She could ask her uncle, but he was just the Arithmancy professor. No way was she going to ask Senior Mosca. But she was worried about asking Professor Hadrian. Would he think she was undermining him? Or perhaps he would try to take control. Because (and she didn't want to say this for fear of seeming conceited) Isabella really wanted to run the club. She missed teaching and the thought of helping others improve their spell work... of being a leader like Harry...

"I'll ask Professor Hadrian today," she announced.

After a Defense Against the Dark Arts class about the breeding habits of dementors, Isabella stuck around, pretending to tie her shoelace as she waited for the classroom to clear.

"Miss Petrroci? Everyone's gone. You can stop faking and stand up now," Professor Hadrian told her. Isabella stood, smiling a little guiltily. "What's going on?" he asked, sinking into the chair behind his desk. "Something you wanted to ask?"

"Well, sir, I had this idea for a club..." Isabella began. She told him all of her idea very quickly and then held her breath as he sat back and appeared to mull it over, stroking his neatly trimmed grey beard.

"Interesting," he mused. "I take it you think the students aren't getting enough magical practice on their own?"

"It's not that, sir. It's just-"

"Well, you're wrong then. They definitely aren't getting the training they need to go out there and fight!" he said forcefully, slamming his fist into the desk. "It kills me, just kills me, to know that as soon as our graduates leave the campus, they can be ambushed and butchered. I think this club is a wonderful idea, simply grand. When were you planning on meeting?"

"Oh. Um, saturday?" she suggested. "I don't know where..."

"Downstairs. Dining hall," Professor Hadrian decided. He stood and shook her hand firmly. "See you there, Generalitá."

Like the DA, word spread quickly. At Hogwarts, Hermione told Fred, George, Ginny, and Neville. Fred and George told Lee Jordan. Ginny told Luna, Michael Corner, and Zacharias Smith. Michael told Anthony and Terry; Luna told Isabella; Isabella told the other Ravenclaws. It spread and spread until twenty-six people came to its first meeting.

Only, there were way more than twenty-six people in the Dining Hall when a sleet-filled, blizzarding Saturday afternoon rolled around.

"Mariano, how many people did you invite?" Isabella hissed as another five or so came into the hall and sat at the tables, joining the forty or so already milling around the room.

"There's been a lot of interest," he smiled. Isabella glanced around, curiosity peaked by _The Ancient Feud: Why the Greeks and the Italians Hate Each Other. _Sure enough, almost everyone in the room was Italian. About a dozen or so looked Austrian or Swiss. There were almost no Greeks.

"Quiet down, now! Everyone take your seats!" Professor Hadrian shouted over the chatting of the students. They immediately went quiet and slipped into the remaining seats, fixing their attention on Professor Hadrian.

"Miss Petrroci?" the teacher said, looking expectantly at her. "Would you like to start us off?"

"Oh, um, sure," Isabella nodded, stepping forward. Everyone turned to her instead. "Hello everyone, thank you for coming. I know a lot of you are probably wondering why you would want to be down here rather than, say, outside enjoying the lovely weather." There was a chuckle from the group. "Well, I had the idea of starting a club where we would practice defensive and offensive spells. We all want to be trained because -"

Caterina was sitting in the front row looking up at Isabella attentively. Isabella met the older girl's eyes as she continued. "- Because the revoltoso are out there. They can kill, and they have killed. We need to be able to stand up against them, to protect ourselves and our families."

"So what's in it for us?" a fair boy stood up. He looked about fourteen or so, with long golden hair. "What about the ones of us who aren't Italian?"

"Why don't you -" Mariano began, but Isabella reached out an arm and he fell silent.

"It is an excellent question," Isabella said, inclining her head. "The fact is: you may not be Italian, but you go to school here. And that puts you in danger. Because I know -" she raised her voice so that it filled the whole room "- that just because we're kids doesn't mean we are going to be spared. In England, Hogwarts has been under that attack of the Dark Wizards as much as, if not more than, the English Ministry. And our Academia doesn't have the protections Hogwarts had. We're sitting ducks up here on the mountain."

"Who's going to teach?" someone else piped up. Everyone looked once again to Professor Hadrian, who held up his hands and took a step back.

"I'm just here to supervise," he said, shaking his head.

"Well, who's going to teach? You?" the boy asked, turning back toward Isabella. "Why should we take lessons from another student?"

"Don't think of it as teaching," Isabella said. "I just want to help you practice spells."

A hand shot into the air. Isabella saw little Sedgewick, his arm practically dislocated as he jumped up and down in his seat.

"Yes, Sedgwick?" she asked, smiling involuntarily.

"Is it true you're an animagus?" he asked, standing on his chair to get a better look at her. "I heard from my father - he works in the Ministry - that you're an animagus."

"Well, yes, it's true," Isabella said, a little disconcerted by the change in subject.

"Yeah, right!" a haughty looking girl laughed. "I'd like to see you prove it!" Isabella sighed and pulled her wand out of her pocket. She handed it to Angelica and then dropped to all fours.

Her body lengthened and grew more muscular. Golden hair covered her skin and sharp claws shot from her paws. She opened her mouth and revealed long, curving teeth. A lioness stood between Mariano and Angelica. Professor Hadrian looked impressed, but several of the students screamed. The haughty girl fell off her chair and the golden-haired boy looked petrified.

Isabella straightened, changing back into her human form as she did so. She straightened her clothes, which were magically enchanted to disappear and reappear when she transformed.

"Happy?" she asked cooly. "Or would you like me to do it again?" There was a huge burst of excited murmurs and several people began to shout questions toward her.

"Enough!" she yelled. They gradually quieted down and looked to her, a little awed. "I'm not here to teach you Transfiguration! I want to teach you to defend yourselves against the Dark Arts, to protect those you love, to -"

"And what experience do you have with that?" someone else asked. Isabella started slightly as she recognized one of the boys who shadowed Pandaros. "What can you teach us? You're just like the rest of us! What have you done that makes you qualified? You think you're so great, transforming into a cat, well that's useless unless we're going to be attacked by zebras!"

She wasn't sure if it was the insults, or the fact that she kept hearing Pandaros saying these things through the boy, but Isabella glared him into silence. Without saying a word, she unzipped her sweater and pulled it off. Pushing up the sleeve of her shirt, she revealed several long, red scars.

"Fenrir Greyback, a werewolf, gave me these last year when I battled him," Isabella told the hushed room. "There were nine Death Eaters, and we fought them off. The Order of the Phoenix, a society of adult witches and wizards dedicated to stopping You-Know-Who, and Dumbledore's Army, a kid's secret defense society started by Harry Potter.

"The year before that, a bunch of us kids broke into the English Ministry of Magic. We got into the very heart of the of building, where the most secret spells were kept. Eleven Death Eaters tried to stop us, and we fought them all. The Order of the Phoenix came at the end and finished the Death Eaters off.

"So don't tell me I don't know about fighting the Dark Arts, because I do," Isabella finished. "And I took the same lessons I want to teach you. Because if you don't take them, you'll be killed." Everyone was silent, staring at Isabella's scars. Angelica silently stepped forward and gave Isabella's wand back to her.

"La speranza è l'ultima a morire," Angelica said softly, but her voice echoed throughout the room so that even the people in the back heard her. "Hope is the last to die."

"Well, I think just to be sure that everyone agrees, we should elect a leader," Isabella said after a while. "That way it's fair."

"Okay, all in favor of Isabella being leader?" Mariano asked. Slowly, most of the hands in the room went up. "Right, Isabella's leader."

"And we ought to have a name," she continued. "Any suggestions?"

"The Defense and Dueling Club?" Sedgwick offered.

"Death to the Rivolta?" Kurt said.

"No," Isabella said forcefully. "Not that."

"Speranza?" Caterina asked quietly. Everyone was quiet and Isabella thought that, while it was a pretty name, the boys of the group would not like it very much.

"What are those Dark Wizards in Britain called?" Khalid asked.

"You mean Death Eaters?"

"Yeah. Well, the revoltoso call themselves the 'gloria-creatore', the glory-makers," Khalid continued enthusiastically. "So what if we make ourselves their opposite? What if we called ourselves the 'gloria-mangiatori'?"

"The glory-eaters?" Isabella asked, unsure. "I don't think we should be taking ideas from Death Eaters..." But everyone else was talking excitedly and nodding. "People, please, silence!" she tried to hush them, but no one was paying attention anymore.

"QUIET!" Professor Hadrian thundered. "Pay attention to Generalitá Leone!" Isabella blushed as a few students giggled, but they all turned to look at her.

"Um, thank you, professor," she stammered. "The thing is, I'm not really sure Gloria-Mangiatori is a proper name."

"What about Viva Italia?" Zala asked. "Because, face it, this is about Italy and protecting it. The revolotso are out to destroy Italy, well, we can be it's defenders."

"All in favor of Viva Italia?" Mariano asked. He and Angelica counted the number of raised hands. "That's a majority! Motion passed!"

Isabella was looking over the wide range of people gathered. The levels ranged from little Sedgwick to Caterina and her friends.

"I guess we can start right away," Isabella said. "Perhaps _Expelliarmus, _the Disarming Charm. I know it's pretty basic, but until I get the groups divided up -"

"_Expelliarmus_? That's so easy! Is that actually going to be any use?" the golden-haired boy interrupted. Isabella had to learn his name soon.

"Harry Potter told me he once used it against You-Know-Who," Isabella told him. "I think if Harry's used it, it can hardly be below you. Right, divide into pairs and practice."

Almost everyone broke off into groups of two, except for a large number of first and second years, who looked worried.

"Isabella, want to pair with me?" Zala asked.

"Actually, I think I'd better help that lot," she said. "I don't think goldie has a partner."

"Shocker," Zala sighed. "That's Flavius Antonio. Supreme pig-head."

"Have fun," Isabella offered, heading toward the younger students. "Right, I'm guessing you guys have never done this spell before?" They nodded sheepishly. "That's fine, that's why we're here. Sedgwick, would you come here please?" The boy bounced over to her, practically tripping on his own feet.

"Take a stance like this -" she demonstrated the stance, wand arm at the ready. "Don't look so tense, you'll fall right over in a proper fight. The key to dueling is to dodge and weave. It's a dance more than anything. That's right, nice and loose. Now, don't do anything... _Expelliarmus!_" Sedgwick's wand flew from his hand and Isabella caught it with practiced ease.

"Good. Now, everyone break into pairs. The spell is '_Expelliarmus_'. Don't wave your wand too much, and for goodness sake enunciate!"

"_Ex-expellimilus!_" a tiny second-year girl squeaked, pointing her wand at her best friend, whose robes promptly caught on fire.

"_Aguamenti_," Isabella said calmly, summoning a jet of clear water to extinguish the girl's robes. "That, children, is why you need to speak clearly."

She stopped practice a few minutes before the hour was up and had everyone present sign their name on a piece of parchment so she could be sure who had attended.

"How often would you guys like to meet?" she asked the room in general as a line formed to sign the parchment. "Once a week?"

"More! Much more!" Mariano said.

"Well, how often then?"

"Maybe once a day," Zala suggested. Isabella fully expected protests to arise, but no one spoke up. Then again, with winter in the Alps almost in full gear, there would be no Quidditch and no time to go outside.

"Well, I'll think about it and let you know when the next meeting is," Isabella told them.


	10. Potterwatch

Isabella and Professor Hadrian ended up dividing the groups into two sections. The cut off followed that of the upper and lower school, with ten- to thirteen-year-olds learning basic defense and fifteen- to eighteen-year-olds learning dueling and defense. Both groups met on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays while duelers met on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays.

Unlike Dumbledore's Army, Isabella found it easier to organize and unify her troops by taking an almost army-like approach. She taught them all a single salute so that whenever she raised her wand and said, "Viva Italia!", they performed the dueler's salute and responded, "Viva!" This also helped when the students got too loud or too absorbed in their practice so that when everyone around them stopped what they were doing to salute, they also knew to cease practice and pay attention.

Although they continued to call themselves the Gloria-Mangiatori, her students also jokingly referred to her as Generalitá Leone, the nickname given to her by Professor Hadrian. And they treated her like a general, falling silent when she spoke, taking her orders exactly. They were her own army, standing at attention or at ease, their movements always unified and always together.

Professor Hadrian was great. He was usually a silent presence, only occasionally having to step in to keep order and quiet the students. Isabella, who often had the students work in pairs, would patrol the sets of duelers to correct and advise them. Professor Hadrian often did the same, lessening Isabella's load. She began to laughingly call him her Praetorian Guard.

To her surprise and delight, the VI grew quickly, encompassing the entire population of Italians at the school (Isabella practically glowed with delight when Rosina managed to perform a perfect Impediment Jinx) and most of the Austrians and Swiss. Even a few Greeks joined led by Pandaros' friend, Emiliano, who was surprisingly quiet and shy when not being an arrogant jerk (which usually happened around Pandaros).

Isabella had taken to carrying the fake Galleon Hermione had made the original members of the DA. It reminded her of Luna and the other members of the DA as well as making her feel a little closer to the school. This was because the coin still occasionally grew hot and the serial numbers of the side changed. Every time this happened, Isabella felt a thrill of excitement, but she knew there was no way she could go back and attend one of the meetings.

Isabella finally got a note back from George (actually, she was pretty sure it was Fred this time) that was hardly more helpful than the first.

"Bella,

Glad you're well.

Wireless. I'm in a good Mood, if you understand.

F&GW."

Without the first letter at hand, this note made absolutely no sense. With the letter, however...

Isabella borrowed Professor Hecuba's ancient wireless and sat down in her room with it and Fred's letter. Khalid, Angelica, Mariano, and Zala were also present, doing a combination of homework and practice for the VI. She sat there twiddling the dials while the others chatted amiably.

"So how many months have you two been together now?" Mariano asked his sister and Khalid.

"Seven this Thursday," Angelica smiled, taking Khalid's hand.

"Wish I had a boyfriend," Zala sighed, pushing her glasses farther up the bridge of her nose.

"Me too," Mariano agreed. Everyone giggled a little at that.

"Do you have a boyfriend, Leone?" Khalid asked Isabella. He was leaning against her bed, an unstarted essay on his lap and his free hand busy scratching Portia's ears.

"Don't call me that outside of meetings," Isabella frowned, rereading Fred's letter. "And no, I don't." About two weeks ago Isabella had gotten a letter from Morgan who was overflowing with the news that she was now dating Seamus Finnigan. Isabella had written to Alex asking for confirmation and the story behind Morgan and Terry's breakup. She was still waiting for a response. Not that she knew what to do if it was true. Isabella hadn't had a real conversation with Terry Boot, her ex-boyfriend, since she had turned him into a dog and went upstairs in tears.

"A girlfriend then?" Mariano suggested.

"No," Isabella said, trying to keep from sounding cross. "I'm in a good mood. I'm in a good _Mood_. What does that mean?"

"He's bipolar?" Zala offered.

"He's dating someone?" Mariano said.

"Maybe it isn't code. Maybe he's just moody," Angelica sighed, leaning against Khalid's shoulder and tracing the lines on his palm.

"Moody? Moody! Angelica, you're brilliant!" Isabella said. She picked up her wand and tapped the wireless lightly, saying, "Moody." The radio lit up, its dial twirled and a voice crackled over the static.

"... and there was another Muggle woman found dead in her locked home. Muggle police are unable to determine cause of death, but it was most likely the Killing Curse."

"That's Lee!" Isabella said, delighted to hear the familiar voice.

"Who?" Khalid asked, but Zala hushed him.

"So the total of all deaths this week include Icarus Peterson, the family from Bristol, and the tragically unnamed, but still remembered Muggle woman. Let's have a moment of silence in memory of these losses," Lee continued, falling silent.

"Also of note this week, ex-Ministry of Magic official Dirk Cresswell made a daring escape from his guards as he was escorted to Azkaban prison. You may remember that Dirk, a muggle-born, was charged with forging his family tree. Mr. Cresswell overcame his guard last night and escaped. He is now on the run. Wherever you are Dirk, good luck and God bless."

Isabella made a small sound, a cross between a groan and a sigh. She had met Mr. Cresswell and enjoyed speaking with him. Hoping he was all right now, Isabella remained silent to listen to Lee Jordan speak.

"For those just joining our broadcast, I am River and this is _Potterwatch, _the reliable source of information in these troubled times."

"I would like to issue a cautionary warning to all of you," Lee said seriously. "The dementors, who previously guarded Azkaban prison, have now moved as far north as the border and as far south as London. Remember that these soul-sucking creatures feed on feelings of despair and hopelessness. You have to remember to keep your spirits up and, if possible, members of your family should remain close to someone capable of casting a Patronus Charm."

"Well listeners, that brings us to the end of another Potterwatch. I don't know when it will be possible to broadcast again, but you can be sure I will be back. Keep twiddling those dials: the next password is 'Dumbledore'. Keep each other safe: keep faith, Goodnight."

The radio's dial twirled and the lights behind the tuning panel went out.

"What was that about?" Angelica asked curiously.

"It was a program about the Wizarding War in England," Isabella said, unable to stop a smile. "That person - River, wasn't it? - was actually a friend of a friend from my school. He must be really brave to be running this, I'm sure the Death Eaters would love to put an end to this!"

"What did he mean, 'the reliable source of information'?" Zala asked, frowning.

"Well, He Who Must Not Be Named is in charge of the Ministry, so he also has control of the wizarding newspaper, the _Daily Prophet_. And everyone else must be too frightened to speak out against the Death Eaters."

"What was up with that Cresswell person?" Khalid asked. "The Ministry official?"

"I've heard that Muggle-borns are being rounded up by the Death Eaters and sent to Azkaban," Isabella said slowly, glancing over at the latest copy of _The Quibbler _that Luna had sent her. "It sounds like Mr. Cresswell tried to forge his family tree to make it look like he wasn't Muggle-born, but he must have been caught. But he escaped," she said, more to herself than the others. "He'll be fine."

"It sounds bad," Mariano said quietly after a long silence. "Really bad. I had no idea..."

"Yeah, well, it's been hard these past few years," Isabella said, picking up the steadily growing stack of _Quibbler_s and moving them. "Harder this year."

"You okay, Isabella?" Mariano asked, sitting on the bed beside her. Isabella sighed and leaned into him and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Your friends are back there, aren't they? You must be worried about them."

"If Lee is doing something like this, who knows what Fred and George are up to?" she said, her voice quavering. "Alex's terrified of being expelled; Luna and her dad are directly defying the Ministry; Harry, Hermione, and Ron have disappeared; Mr. Cresswell's on the run; and the DA are trying to sneak around under Snape's nose." Even though they probably understood none of this, Mariano gave her shoulders a comforting squeeze and Angelica patted her knee.

"And there's the other thing, too," Isabella said, sitting up straight. "You all remember how I told you about the DA? Well, one of its members, that idiot Michael Corner, was caught trying to help a first year boy at Hogwarts. The boy had been chained up as a punishment and - well, they hurt Michael pretty bad." Isabella had never like the pushy, arrogant Ravenclaw, but she could not help but hold a grudging respect for him after Luna had told her what he'd been through.

"And the three students who are running the DA now, Ginny, Neville, and Luna, were caught trying to steal something from the headmaster's office," Isabella sighed, rubbing her temples. "They weren't tortured, at least, but they were punished. If they can stand up to You Know Who, I reckon we can stand up to the Gloria-Creatore."


	11. The Rivolta Advances

The bulletin board downstairs in the Dining Hall had been gradually converted into a board for the VI. It had started with a photograph of Silvano Giorgio: a laughing blue-eyed boy bundled up against the snow all around him. His arms were around a young Caterina, her eyes sparkling and cheeks red with the cold. The Silvano in the picture was smiling, tall, and full to the brim with life.

Caterina had brought Isabella the picture of her and her brother, and Isabella had put it up on the board. It would motivate the VI to practice hard and remember what they were fighting for.

Then another picture and another picture had come: a small girl with curly black hair and a dimpled smile, a couple waving at the camera as a wind tousled their hair. More and more pictures of family members, of friends who had lost their lives in the rivolta.

To these, Isabella added magazine clippings and bits of the _Potterwatch _broadcast that Zala helped her copy down. The board grew to be completely covered by slips of paper and moving photographs. Occasionally, Isabella could see that someone practicing dueling would look over at the board, seem to steel themselves, and throw themselves back into the fight with a vengeance.

Fall passed and winter came in a blur of snow and sleet. The mountain was cold, but the Academia had an extensive heating system so that it was always warm inside. Castro would return from delivering messages looking decidedly frozen, his bald head hunched down amid his bright green feathers and ice melting on his wings.

One day Sergio, Tina, and Rosina came and found Isabella in the Main Hall. They all looked decidedly worried and jumpy.

"What's up?" Isabella asked them, setting aside her Potions homework.

"Have you got a letter from Great-Uncle Leo?" Sergio demanded.

"Um no, why?"

"He would have told you," Sergio muttered, evidently disgruntled. "You're the favorite."

"Excuse me?" Isabella asked, feeling her ears burn with embarrassment.

"Great-Uncle always writes us this time of year and tells us what day we're expected home," Tina explained, sitting down on the arm of Isabella's chair. "Only... he hasn't written."

"Maybe his letter's just late," Isabella suggested as Rosina perched on the other arm of her chair.

"No, it usually get here before," Rosina said, shaking her head. "Something's wrong."

"Well... I suppose... I could write him," Isabella offered.

"Thanks!" Tina said, giving her a one armed hug. "You're the best."

"When's the next VI meeting?" Rosina asked.

"Today, like always," Isabella said wearily. It seemed that everyone in the VI had to confirm the meeting days all the time even though there had never been a break from the meetings.

"We aren't meeting over the break, are we?" Sergio asked, standing awkwardly to the side.

"I don't think so," Isabella shrugged. "We'll probably meet the second day back."

"So you are going to write Great-Uncle, right?" Tina asked. "Like, today?"

"If you want me to," said Isabella.

"Yes," Tina nodded. "Today." The twin girls wandered off together, but Sergio remained behind.

"Well?" Isabella asked him.

"Do you think something might be wrong at home?" Sergio asked. "Do you think everyone's okay?"

"I think we would have gotten a letter if they weren't," Isabella told him. "Why are you so worried?"

"Because my sisters are," Sergio said, lowering his voice. "Look, we lost our parents, okay? We don't want to lose anyone else."

"It'll be fine, Sergio," she said yet again. "I'm sure it will be fine. I'll write Grandfather now." She pulled a clean piece of parchment out and dipped her quill in the ink. Sergio watched her for another moment, then abruptly turned and left. Isabella looked after him silently.

Sergio's mother and father, Great-Aunt Guilia's daughter and son-in-law, had died several years ago. Their mother Maria had been a Ministry employee and had been killed by a backfiring spell. Hyacinthus, their father, had become increasingly reckless after his wife's death. He had disappeared for a long time, turning up dead years later in Sicily. Tina and Rosina had been heartbroken, Sergio had been stoic. Now however... Isabella wasn't sure he could take another family member's death. She wrote the letter to grandfather. As an afterthought, she also wrote to Luna because she missed her slightly odd, dreamy roommate.

When she went to Castro to give him the letters, he snapped half-heartedly at her and tried to huddle his head even farther into his ruffled feathers.

"I know, I know," Isabella sighed. "Just take this south to Villa Petrroci and then take this one" - she held up the letter for Luna - "To Hogwarts. In that order, do you understand?"

Castro opened his beak wide in a silent, pitiful cry.

"Please, mia bella?" she begged. The augury glared at her and extended his leg for her to tie the letters on.

About a week later, Isabella was awakened late at night to the sound of tapping on her window. She sat up and saw a hawk huddled on the windowsill outside. She unlatched the window and very quickly opened it. The bird fluttered inside and she closed the window with a quiet snap.

She recognized the bird as coming from the Petrroci mews. Isabella was pretty sure the handsome Harris hawk was Tarquinius, her grandfather's personal bird. Tarquinius glared at her and shuffled his feet, hunching down in her still warm blankets.

"I'm sorry!" she whispered, trying not to wake Zala. The hawk clacked his beak angrily at her and shook his wings. After a while, when he was sufficiently warm, Tarquinius allowed her to untie the letter around his leg.

She quickly read the letter while Tarquinius made small sounds of complaint. She had to feed the hawk a bit of food that belonged to Zala's owl Fret. Castro usually hunted for himself or was rewarded with human food but the Harris hawks of the Petrroci family were used to hunting when they had to and being taken care of when their message was delivered.

The next morning, Isabella hunted down all three of her cousins at breakfast and let them read the letter from grandfather.

"Isabella, Sergio, Rosina, Tina,

Everything is fine here, I promise you. My letter has been delayed due to an uprising in Florence. Taddeo was injured, but he should be fine. He is at Santo Antonio's. His face was burned badly and he'll probably be scarred. As it is, I do not think it wise for you to return home for Christmas at this year. Guilia suggests Valentino take you down to the Muggle village to attend Church services.

Leonardo Petrroci."

"Florence?" Tina whispered, horrified. "That's so much farther north than ever!"

"I know," Isabella said quietly. "Do you know where I could get a newspaper?"

Tina sent her to the little atrium where the two staircases ended in front of the Main Hall's doors. Isabella found a small stack of newspapers on a rickety looking table and took one.

Shaking it open, Isabella saw the headline:

_FLORENCE OVERRUN, REBELS TAKE CONTROL_

Under this was written:

_Ministry unable to stop the northward advance._

_While Rome remains an ocean of Ministry control in an ever advancing tide of rebellion, Florence succumbed to the might of the rebel army last Thursday. _

_The rebel forces crested the Settignano hill Thursday in the early morning and began their descent into the city. Aurors attempted to hold off the army while families, both Muggle and wizard, were evacuated._

"_Our kids were at school," a distressed Marius Sulla told a reporter. "We were trying to get them, but the crowds pushed us the opposite way. I don't even know if they're alive!" Only about one third of the population had been evacuated when the Aurors' defenses broke and the rebels swept into the city. _

_Hundreds were killed during the attack and over a thousand others perished in the fires that broke out across the city. _

"_I was running away from the fighting when I saw a family huddled in their doorway. The houses were burning behind me, so I knew I had to get that family to safety," survivor Christina de Milan recalls. "When I got close to them, I realized they were Muggles. They had a baby with them and they were terrified. I tried to get them to move, pulling and pushing them along away from the Piazza. I knew we had to get out of the city, but how...?"_

_Christina was one of many who stopped to help their Muggle neighbors escape the rampage. Most of the evacuees fled into the heart of the city to either the Basilica of Santa Croce or to Palazzo Vecchio. There, wizards attempted to Apparate as many people out as possible. _

_Meanwhile, a company of wizards hid inside the Pitti Palace and attempted to barricade the building. Luckily, far-famed Alberico Alvise arrived at the museum and helped the wizards gathered there to make every single one of the priceless works of art into Portkeys. Most of these were able to take about two hundred evacuees to locations outside of the city. _

_Boboli Gardens and the Piazza San Lorenzo were destroyed by the invaders. But by far the most tragic loss was that of the Belvedere Fort. About six hundred families - the majority of which were Muggles - had found refuge in the fort, barricading themselves within. The rebels, arriving on the scene and unable to penetrate the ancient fortress's defensives, set the building on fire. The people within, who had attempted to lock the rebels out, were instead locked within the now burning building. There were no survivors of the Belvedere massacre._

_Facing the loss of almost two thousand lives, Signor de Piero was "shocked and horrified at this stupendous blow to our nation". He is unable to promise safe refuge to any of the survivors of Florence, instead urging them to find safety farther north or on the island of Sardina. _

_So far the rebels of captured control of Bari, Campobasso, Siena, and Florence. Battles are being fought in L'Aquila, Ancona, San Marino, and Palermo. The center of the conflict is undoubtedly Rome, where the Ministry of Magic is still scrambling to put up defenses while keeping the large population of Muggles safe."_


	12. The Oracle

On Christmas Eve Valentino took Sergio, Isabella, and the twins down into the valley (where it was only a little warmer) to the San Francis de Assisi Chapel. The Muggles there looked haggard and worried, barely sparing glimpses for the strangers to their town.

The candles in the chapel burned brightly and evergreen garlands were strung everywhere. The wind swirled snow passed the stain-glass windows, but not even their howling could compete with the sheer desperation of prayers within the chapel.

The Muggles may not know exactly what was going on farther south, but that only made their fear worse. They knelt and bowed their heads, fingering their rosaries and their lips moving silently in prayer. Isabella had never seen a less jolly Christmas.

"Il Gesù Cristo, mi ha misericordia," the dark-eyed woman sitting next to Isabella mumbled. Her head was bent and she rocked back and forth, clutching her prayer beads to her lips. "Il Signore ha misericordia."

The choir began the familiar tune and Isabella joined the rest of the congregation in singing Adeste Fidelis. After the service was finished and the rest of the village hurried out into the snow, bundled in scarves and overcoats, the woman still sat there. She had not moved the entire service, nor had she ceased her whispered prayers.

When everyone else was gone, Valentino touched the woman's shoulder. She started, as though unaware she had not been alone.

"Pace," he told her. "You are safe here." The woman made no response save to shake her head.

"It is all right," Valentino tried again. "You are a witch, aren't you?" The woman closed her eyes tightly and nodded. Without warning, her eyes snapped back open, bright green and glowing.

Sitting up straight, she put her hand in a drawstring bag at her hip and pulled out a handful of pewter stones, which she cast on the pew beside her.

Without looking at the stones, she began to recite:

"_Tonight the snake bites_

_Tonight the boy fights_

_Tonight the wand lights._

_Soon the lioness goes_

_Soon the black darkness grows_

_Soon the sun's bright cock crows."_

Valentino stumbled back. This was no witch, this was an oracle. The seers of Delphi worship only their god Apollo and Hecate the Magnificent. They were able to foretell the future without the aid of crystal balls or tea leaves required by their less gifted cousins. The oracles were mysterious, eccentric, and frightening.

This one blinked and her eyes were dark once more. Immediately she hunched over and examined the cast runes.

"The snake," she said, pointing to one of the pewter tiles. "Deceit. The Hero" - another tiled rune - "in connection with the snake. The wand... power? Or combat? The lion who is not a lion... the darkness not unknown... the dawn that follows night." The oracle scooped up the runes and tucked them back in the bag. Her rosary swung from her neck as she stood and retrieved a walking stick. Upon the staff a great carved python curled with bright gemstones for its eyes. Seeing the four of them standing, staring at her, she glanced over them. Her eyes lit upon Isabella and she murmured yet again, "The lion who is not a lion."

Then the oracle shuffled down the aisle and out into the night, disappearing into darkness.

"A Delphic Oracle in a Catholic Church," Valentino said, crossing himself. "No wonder she was praying for mercy."

AN: This will be my last post before Christmas. I hope you all have happy holidays.


	13. News from across the Channel

One day, towards the end of the Christmas holidays, Isabella returned to her room to see Zala sitting on her bed, feeding owl pellets to Fret.

"Castro's back," the girl told her, nodding towards the bottle-green bird. Isabella sighed with relief. She had been getting worried about Castro's continued absence, sure that either he was hurt or the message he was carrying had been captured and Luna punished.

The augury looked distinctly worn and Isabella felt horribly guilty. She had sent the poor bird across the Channel in the middle of winter; he must be exhausted.

"Grazzi, mia bella," she told him, pulling out a piece of a Circe chocolate bar and feeding it to him. "Avete fatto bene. Well done." He nibbled at her hand affectionately and allowed her to remove the letter tied to his leg before fluttering under the bed where it was warmer.

Isabella frowned at the writing on the letter. It wasn't Luna's cramped, titled scrawl but larger, spiky lettering. She unfolded it and realized that whoever it was knew the secret spells she, Luna, Alex, and Morgan had used in writing their letters. That made her nervous, but she undid the coding spells and began to read:

"Bella,

You sent a letter to Luna, but I'm afraid she isn't here anymore. They took her on the Hogwarts Express when we were all going home for the holidays. Death Eaters, definitely. We don't know where she is. Possibly Azkaban. I'm so sorry, I know how close you were. We all miss you and Luna terribly.

Ginny never came back from the Christmas holidays, but she's okay. She and her family went into hiding when the Death Eaters found out Ron was traveling with Harry.

I'm still in the DA and we're still fighting Snape's regime, but without Ginny and Luna Neville's really struggling. If only you were here; you'd probably be great at leading us.

Alex never came back after Christmas, either, but no one thinks she's hurt or captured. Morgan thinks she's probably gone into hiding, like Ginny. The few weeks before the break the Carrows were asking her a lot of prying questions. They aren't too happy about her and Ginny not turning up.

I hope you're doing okay. I'm sorry we never talked much last year, but I hope you can forgive me. I guess you've already heard that Morgan and I broke up.

Sincerely,

Terry."

"Any news?" Zala asked. Isabella set aside the letter and began to massage her temples. Portia slunk out from under the bed, clearly annoyed at having to share the space with a cold, wet bird. The kneazle jumped onto Isabella's lap and curled up there. Isabella began to absent-mindedly scratch Portia's chin.

"Too much," she told Zala. "One of my best friends has been... she's... captured. By Death Eaters."

"Oh, Isabella," Zala whispered, her eyes wide. "I'm so sorry!"

"Some of my friends went into hiding," she continued, her eyes shut tightly. "And no one seems to know where Alex is."

An image flashed, unbidden, to her mind. An ancient archway, peaked and crumbling, with a tattered veil.

Isabella firmly shut off the image and searched inside herself for that little golden spark that hid under her heart. It was harder to find today, dim and faded. Once she found it, Isabella dove into its light and transformed into a lioness. She curled up on the now creaking bed, her back to Zala, and tried to go to sleep.

"You know, I really wish you'd tell me when you're about to turn into a 270 pound carnivore," Zala muttered as Isabella drifted off to sleep.


	14. LyonNotteLyon

The first signs of spring left the Academia completely empty. Almost all of the students poured out into the grounds when the snow began to melt and they began to discuss Quidditch in excited, expectant voices. Isabella was going to join them, just as soon as she returned a library book.

Placing _Spellman's Syllabry _upon it's shelf, Isabella heard a small noise, like the rustling of fabric, on the other side of the shelf.

"Hello?" she called quietly. No answer came. "Madam Jacqueline?" she called a little louder. The tiny, pale librarian gave no reply, but the rustle of fabric came again, closer this time and from behind. Isabella turned around and peered through the gaps in the long lines of books.

Something cold passed her shoulder, making her start and look sharply to her left. A woman stood there, but Isabella immediately knew she was a ghost. Despite that, the woman was breathtakingly beautiful with long black hair and sad dark eyes.

Actually, Isabella couldn't be sure the woman was a ghost, because she was more substantial than any ghost Isabella had ever seen and she could almost detect the midnight blue color of the woman's gown.

A crown shone from the woman's hair, bright as a star and lighting her face and its high cheekbones, curving lips, and sharp jaw. The stranger was as intimidating as she was beautiful.

"What do you want?" Isabella whispered, backing away from this ghostly form. "Who are you?"

But the woman made no reply save to stare at Isabella as though she was drinking her in. Her pale, transparent fingers floated towards Isabella's face. The girl automatically jerked away, expecting the ice cold sensation felt when a ghost touched you. The woman paused at this reaction and frowned, as though hurt by her insensitivity. Isabella remained perfectly still as the woman once again reached towards her. The ghost's hands were surprisingly warm and gentle. The fingers traced two lines down Isabella's forehead, lines visible as dark fur when she was in her lion form.

"The lyon notte lyon," the woman said. Her voice, silvery and echoing as though through the ages, sent shivers down Isabella's spine. "The stone awakenth. The crowne stirreth. To mine home, to the lande of lyons, go now."

"I don't..."

"The Golde Ravin riseth," the woman said, her voice more urgent. Then she looked over her shoulder, as though some silent voice had called her.

"The stone awakenth," she murmured, more to herself than Isabella this time. "Peace to ye, lyon-notte-lyon." Then she faded and disappeared, leaving the shelves dark after the brilliance of her crown.

Isabella let out the breath she had unconsciously been holding.

"What was - ?"

"Yes? Did you say something?" Madam Jacqueline poked her head around the corner, causing Isabella to jump with fight.

"Um, no. I mean yes. Uh, bye!" Isabella darted out of the library and down the staircase from the ladder.

That was not the last time the woman appeared to Isabella. Sometimes, it seemed the apparition could not speak, but merely smiled sadly at her. Other times, she would reach out a hand and touch Isabella's shoulder, murmuring, "The Golde Ravin riseth," in her ear.

Each time the woman appeared, Isabella became more and more sure she wasn't a ghost. It might have been that the woman's wispy form seemed to define and solidify, but it was more that no one but Isabella seemed to see or hear her. In fact, whenever the specter came to her, it seemed no one could see or hear Isabella either.

"Why?" she asked one time the shade came to her. "Why me?"

"I am parte of ye, lyon-notte-lyon," she had smiled. "The Golde Ravin riseth."

"Who is the Gold Raven?" Isabella demanded. "Why can't you tell me?"

"Ah, the crowne! Ah, the stone!" the woman sighed, shaking her head. "Beware the goblet."

The warnings were always the same, and the woman's name for her, "lyon-notte-lyon", haunting. It reminded Isabella too much of the Oracle's prediction: "the lion who is not a lion".

Isabella might have worried she was crazy, but something stopped her from confiding in Uncle Valentino or even her friends. It was that nagging feeling that the woman was trying to tell her something, to warn her. She didn't have the strength now, but soon. Hadn't she just issued a new warning the other day? "Beware the goblet".


	15. Ah, the cursed cup!

It was late in March when the woman appeared quite suddenly, grasping Isabella's shoulder as the girl walked down the spring-melted pathway in the Enchanted Woods.

"The goblet! Ah, the goblet! Woe to ye, sweet friend, entombed in lande of dragons!" the woman lamented. "Tis cursed, the drinking vessel. Tis cursed, the crowne of mine. Tis cursed the stone. The wakened stone!"

"Tell me more!" Isabella pleaded and, for the first time, she reached towards the woman and made to grab her hand. "Let me help you!"

"The Roome of Hidden Things, lyon-notte-lyon!" the woman told her, dark eyes intense and warning. For the first time, Isabella though of Juno Moneta, the one who warns, from Roman mythology.

"Is that where the goblet is?" Isabella asked.

"Nay! Tis where mine crowne, mine glory, lies," the woman said, shaking her dark hair. "Heirloom of the Golde Ravin, artifact of lande of lyons. Nay, not the goblet of the good lady from the dragon land."

"Crown? Gold Raven? Land of Lions?" Isabella said, suddenly overwhelmed by everything clicking together. "You're Ravenclaw?"

"Wit beyond measure, tis man's greatest treasure," the woman, Rowena Ravenclaw, nodded, but it was too late, she was fading out again. Though she opened her lips to say more, Isabella could no longer hear her.

Isabella stumbled to the side of the path and sat at the foot of a fir tree, shaded by its massive boughs.

"The good lady from the dragon land?" Isabella muttered feverishly. "Didn't the Sorting hat call her 'Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad'? Dragon land - that's Wales! Hufflepuff's home. And the Room of Hidden Things, wasn't that another name for the Room of Requirement? Wait a second... the goblet! The portrait of that woman from the classroom on the fourth floor - she was holding a cup!" Isabella remembered the smiling woman's picture as though from a long-forgotten dream.

That left the stone and the crown. "But, Ravenclaw is known for her lost diadem!" Isabella told herself. "Wit beyond measure, remember? You saw it everyday for the past five years on her statue!"

It didn't matter that the names of the goblet and the diadem had changed over the years, Isabella knew they were the same artifacts the two female founders had possessed.

The Gold Raven of course meant an eagle. Isabella had always wondered why their house was called Ravenclaw if their symbol was the eagle. Now that she thought about it, the eagle in the crest did look a little like a golden raven.

"Woe to ye, sweet friend!" Rowena had lamented. All the legends mentioned the strong friendship between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, so if her friend's last remaining possession was cursed...

But the trail ended abruptly here. Cursed? By whom? Did anyone even know where the goblet was? And this stone that had awakened, is was cursed as well.

Why was she a lion, but not a lion? Isabella hated that name. She loved her lioness form, did that mean she wasn't supposed to take that form?

But what was the use of any of these epiphanies? They solved a personal mystery, yes, but beyond that...

"_To mine home, the lande of lyons, go now_," Rowena's voice whispered. Isabella couldn't be sure if it was just her memory summoning up the shade's request, or if the founder of Ravenclaw House stood next to her, invisible. Ravenclaw House... Isabella felt a surge of pride at belonging to the wise and beautiful founder.

"Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind." Isabella recited to herself.

"What was that?" someone asked. Isabella jumped and saw Mariano and Zala coming down the path towards her.

"Nothing," Isabella said quickly. "Were you looking for me?"

"Yes. The VI meeting's about to start," Mariano told her, looping his arm through hers companionably and steering her towards the lodge. "You okay? You haven't really been talking to anyone lately."

"_If only you knew who I was talking to,"_ Isabella wanted to say, but knew she couldn't.

"I'm fine," she shrugged.

"Everyone okay back in England?" Zala asked. There was no easy answer to that. Terry had become her only correspondence, seeing as Fred and George rightly believed an augury flying to and from their hiding spot (wherever that was) would attract attention, Luna and Alex were still missing, and Morgan seemed far too busy trying to evade capture by the Carrows and Snape while she performed mad stunts with the DA. Terry had followed Neville into the Room of Requirements (the Room of Hidden Things, Isabella should say) to hide. She wondered if he knew how close he was to the last relic of their House's founder.

"No worse," Isabella said at last in answer to Zala's question. She fingered the fake Galleon in her pocket. "No worse."


	16. WE FIGHT

"Okay, as you all know, we're nearing the end of the year," Isabella announced to the VI. It was the first day of May, one month before school let out. "I know examinations are coming up, so this might be our last meeting."

There were a lot of groans and Sedgwick actually stood up and said, "Who cares about exams? I'd rather do this than study!"

"Me too, but I don't think our teachers would agree," Isabella said, casting a side-long glance at Professor Hadrian. "What do you think, Praetorian Guard?"

"Well, I'd have to side with the teachers on this, Generalita," he shrugged. "Revision is pretty important." There were a few joking boos and hisses at his comment and he held up his hands in an attempt to ward off their displeasure. "Come on, kids, I don't make the rules!"

"_Anyway_," Isabella said over the chatting crowd, which instantly fell into a respectful silence. "I've decided to do something really special. Has anyone ever cast a corporeal patronus?" A pen could have dropped and everyone would have heard it.

"Um, no? Have you?" Flavius asked sarcastically, combing back his long golden hair with his fingers.

"Actually..." Isabella said. "_Expecto Patronum!" _A lion erupted from the tip of her wand, his silvery mane glowing as though made of moonlight. He glared around the room with mercury-like eyes and, finding no threat, curled at her feet and went to sleep.

"I wish he wouldn't do that," Isabella sighed, nudging him with her foot. "But the point is that a corporeal patronus can protect you from dementors. They act as a sort of positive source of energy that the dementor feeds off of instead of on your memories and thoughts."

"You mean, when they're actually awake?" Emiliano asked, rolling his eyes.

"Er, yes," Isabella glared at him. "But a shield charm can be just as effective. Shall we begin?"

There was a clattering of footsteps down the stairs just before Isabella could issue instructions and a timid looking second year jumped down the staircase.

"Professor Bianchi would like to see you, Professor Hadrian," she told him, her eyes wide to see so many students looking at her. "Right away, sir."

"Right," he sighed. "I'm coming. I might be a while, Generalita, so go on without me."

"Okay," she said, frowning after him as he left. She wondered what on earth the headmistress wanted that would demand his attention 'right away' and 'for a while'.

"Patronus Charms?" Khalid prompted her.

"Oh. Right." Isabella said, shaking herself out of her reverie. "In order to cast a Patronus you need a happy memory. Not any happy memory, but one that makes you the happiest you have ever been."

"What memory do you use?" Flavius interrupted. He usually was subdued when Professor Hadrian was present, but loud and stubborn when the teacher was not.

Isabella blushed. "That's personal," she snapped.

"Shut up, Antonio!" Mariano shouted at the younger boy. "Go on, Isabella."

"Well, you must focus on that memory," Isabella said, fighting to cool her flushed face while she spoke. "And let it fill your being, drowning out all thought. The spell is '_Expecto Patronum_'." With these last two words, the lion at her feet stood up and yawned massively.

"Everyone stand up, please," Isabella said, placing a hand lightly upon her silvery guardian. There was a loud scraping sound as the chairs were pushed back. A few of the boys pushed the tables over to the walls while the girls stacked the chairs, clearing a space on the floor. They had done this so many times that they movement seemed almost mechanical.

"And begin!" she ordered. The room was filled with shouts of "_Expecto Patronum_!"

"A really happy memory!" Isabella said over them, stepping across the room, the lion following like a glowing shadow. "The most powerful memory you can think of. Excellent, Sedgwick!" A silvery mist flowed from the young boy's wand, his face screwed up in concentration. He grinned and the mist immediately stuttered to a halt.

About an hour passed. Zala, after much struggle, managed to produce a silver wren that flutter around her and made soft calls.

"It's so small," she frowned at it, squinting through her glasses. "Can it really protect me?"

"A small leak can sink a great ship," Isabella told her.

"Who said that?"

"I don't know. An American."

"I think I got something! I think it's - !" Isabella turned to see Mariano pointing his wand before him and a distinct lack of silver in his vicinity

"It was definitely something!" he said. "It had a shape, maybe with claws!"

"Keep trying!" Isabella smiled at him. She saw his sister a little way away, looking frustrated, her brown hair plastered to her neck with sweat.

"What memory are you thinking of?" she asked the girl, who lowered her wand.

"My first kiss, I guess," Angelica sighed.

"I'm not sure that's strong enough," Isabella told her kindly, but Angelica still looked defeated. "But what about Khalid? And all your happy memories with him?" Angelica nodded and raised her wand.

"_Expec - Expecto Patronum!_" she said. A beautiful marten leapt from her wand and twisted through the air, turning to look back at its creator with curious dark eyes.

"Well done!" Isabella grinned, clapping Angelica on the back. "Really good - "

"Watch out!" someone shouted and loud yipping sound came from about ten feet away. Flavius stood there looking over a large starlit hyena, which yipped yet again.

"It's ugly," Zala said cruelly. "Wowzers, I had no idea a Patronus looked like its maker."

"Zala, that was rude," Isabella said sternly.

Mariano finally recaptured that clawed creature, which turned out to be a wolf. Kalid watched a fine silvery bear roam around him, looking hot and bored. Zala's wren was joined by a multitude of birds which filled the room of the Dining Hall with star-like, darting flashes of light.

"All right, everyone, that's enough for today," Isabella tried to say, but with the room crowded full of talking students and calling animals she could not heard.

"Viva Italia!" she shouted.

"VIVA!" came the thundering response. Even the animals fell silent.

"Right, you've all done very well," she said, smiling over them all. "This is really advanced magic, and you've really stepped up and mastered - "

Her pocket was growing hot. Very hot. "And um, well, I guess this - " Isabella tried to continue, ignoring her pocket's radiant heat. "I mean, er - " She couldn't stand it anymore. Pulling the fake Galleon out of her pocket, the coin instantly cooled to her touch. Emblazoned on the side were the words, "HARRY POTTER AT HOGWARTS. WE FIGHT."

Turing the coin in her hand, Isabella's heart missed a beat when she saw that the dragon image normally stamped on the Galleon had been replaced by a raven with outspread wings and instead of saying "_unum galleon_" the letters at the top spelled "_golde ravin_". When she turned the coin over, a lion rampant filled the back of the coin. Her own silvery lion flickered and faded away.

"Isabella? Are you all right?" Zala asked, shaking her shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Caterina asked, sounding terrified.

"Harry Potter is at Hogwarts," she said softly. "There's going to be a battle."

Stunned silence greeted her announcement. Isabella looked up and saw a mixture of confusion, excitement, and fear on the faces of the self-proclaimed Gloria-Mangiatori.

"I'm going," she declared, quietly but with force. "Will someone tell my uncle?"

"I would," Mariano said, stepping up to her, "But I'm going with you."

"No," Isabella said, shaking her head. "This isn't your fight."

"Well then it's not yours either," Angelica argued.

"I thought this was about standing up and fighting!" Emiliano shouted.

"Well, it was... look, that's not the point - " Isabella stammered.

"Then what is the point?" Caterina demanded, her eyes flashing.

"The point is that I'm running out of time!" Isabella shouted. "I need to go now."

"You aren't going without us!" Khalid told her, stepping up and putting a hand on Angelica's shoulder.

"We can help!" Sedgwick piped up, brandishing his wand and nearly taking Zala's eye out.

"... Fine! But I can only take those of age with me!" Isabella said, feeling the tension building up in the coin, as though Rowena was waiting for her to answer. There was an outbreak of protests from the younger students, including Khalid and Angelica but especially Sedgwick.

"Because we're going to have to Apparate in!" she shouted over them.

"Right," Mariano said firmly. "Now, where exactly are we going?"

Isabella instinctively reached in her pocket and pulled out a photograph. She was not sure how it had gotten there, as she had no memory of putting it there, but Rowena was probably behind that, too.

In the picture, a smiling girl with very blonde hair and bright green eyes beamed at the camera, a tall girl with short brown hair beside her with one arm flung around the shorter girl's shoulders. Two identical boys grinned from either side of a picture of Isabella, their cheeks red with the cold and their breathes coming in puffs of mist. A dreamy looking girl with dirty-blonde hair smiled slightly at the photographer, her fingers twirling an odd, radish-like earring. The ground fell away behind them, snowy and white with a small village visible in the background. It was one of those clear days where you can see very far away so that the village was in sharp detail.

"There," Isabella announced, passing Mariano the picture and pointing to the distant Hogsmede. He nodded and passed the photo to Zala and Caterina. To her surprise, Emiliano stepped up and took the picture next, examining it critically. Soon a small contingent of seventh- and eighth-years were gathered around Isabella, looking determined.

"No, Sedgwick," she said sharply. "You can't come."

"But I can help!" the boy protested, his blue eyes sparkling with frustrated tears.

"Angelica, keep them here," Isabella asked the girl, who nodded and place a restraining hand on Sedgwick's collar. "And tell them where we've gone," Isabella added. She briefly wondered if Rowena had arranged Professor Bianchi to call Professor Hadrian and to keep him away, for the tall, graying man had still not returned when Isabella turned on the spot and was pressed very hard from all directions so that she could not breathe.


	17. Hogsmede

AN: From this point on, everything in _Italics _that is not a spell is in Italian. All dialog that is not in italics is in English.

Her feet hit the ground in Hogsmede Main Street. There was a moment where she relaxed and pulled out her wand before a shrill shriek made her jump out of her skin. Instinctively she leapt into the shadow of two buildings, but no one came forward to answer the Caterwauling Charm.

Where were the others? Then Isabella realized with a sinking feeling that, while she had known exactly where to Apparate, they had only had the picture to help them. Some of them may have splinched, or not made it at all, or... There were figures moving in the alleys across from her. They were in shadows, and Isabella could not see their faces. Death-Eaters?

A light spilled from a window out onto the grass and one of the strange newcomers stepped into it. They immediately jumped out of the square of light, as though determined not to be seen, but Isabella caught a flash of golden hair and blue framed glasses.

"Zala!" she whispered. And the others were with her, too. They must have Apparated outside of the village and were now stealthily making their way in.

Isabella wondered how to alert them to her presence without drawing unwanted attention. She considered using the salute Viva Italia, then quickly decided against it. Just because no one had answered the Caterwauling Charm didn't mean that no one would hear them. Isabella instead cupped her hand around the tip of her wand and whispered, "_Lumos_." Her wand lit, but the light was stopped from spilling out of the alley by her hand. Instead, it went up and illuminated her face.

Across the street, wands and faces turned towards her, then lowered when they recognized her. Abruptly, the Caterwauling shriek silenced, leaving a tangible quiet.

"_Nox,_" Isabella whispered, extinguishing her wand. Tapping her wand on the top of her head, she shivered of the feeling of a raw egg slithered down her spine. She held up her hand to the wall and examined it critically. With the help of the shadows, it just blended in.

Isabella stepped lightly into the street, her wand still at the ready. The Caterwauling Charm did not go off again. She snuck across the street and came under the eave of the house opposite. Keeping close to the wall, Isabella tiptoed around the building and almost knocked Caterina over. The older girl steadied her and helped take the Disillusionment Charm off.

"_Everyone okay_?" Isabella breathed, checking to make sure the dozen or so people she had brought were all there.

"_Yes, but we think the Death Eaters are closing in on the village_," Caterina whispered. "_We saw a dark mass of people heading this way. We had to get undercover quickly._"

"_Okay, so we've got to get up to - _" A warm hand closed over Isabella's and she started, whipping her wand around to attack her assailant, but no one was there.

"_What's wrong?_" Emiliano asked, his eyes narrowed as he peered into the darkness.

Yet again, the feeling of a hand gave Isabella a push forward, encouraging her to continue down the alley. Rowena was guiding her again.

With one look back over her shoulder, Isabella indicated that her friends should follow. Then she started down the alley and, when she came to the end, felt a small tug on her right sleeve. Isabella obediently turned right. Rowena's invisible presence guided her through the winding backways of the village to the end of Main Street. Her friends shadowed her twists and turns like wraiths.

Mariano grabbed Isabella's wrist and squeezed it tightly. When she looked back over her shoulder, she saw him nod towards the now distant Main Street. A large crowd of people wearing black ghosted along before the houses and business of Hogsmede, heading for the other end of the village.

There came a soft sound, and Isabella looked back in front of her, wand raised. A door at the very end of the town creaked open and a man with a was silhouetted in the dim light from within.

"In here, quickly!" the man whispered gruffly. Isabella hesitated, trying to see the man's face behind his grimy glasses and white beard.

"_They're getting closer_," someone hissed. Isabella had no choice, she slipped past the strange man and through the door. The members of the VI followed quickly and quietly.

"Upstairs," the tall man muttered. Isabella saw, by the stuttering lights of a single candle, the grubby, sawdust-strewn bar of the Hog's Head. When she looked around, a few of her friends were eyeing the barkeeper suspiciously and he was staring back at them, clearly bemused by their matching purple robes.

"_Come_," Isabella ordered them, gesturing up the rickety wooden staircase behind the counter. They climbed up, still saying nothing, and entered a sitting room with a threadbare rug and a small fireplace. A portrait hung above the fireplace depicted a sweet girl with long blonde hair and a sweet face.

"Who the hell are you?" the barkeep asked Isabella gruffly. No one answered, and Isabella realized with a start that she was probably the only one who spoke English.

"Isabella Petrroci O'Reagan," she said, extending her hand. The barkeep did not take it. "I was called?" she prompted, fishing the fake Galleon out of her pocket.

"You and everyone else," he grumbled. "Suspect you want to get into Hogwarts as well?"

"How did you...?"

"You're the fifteenth group I've had," he explained. "The last one was a red-haired boy. Barely even noticed me he was in such a hurry - "

"Red hair?" Isabella asked, her throat closing up a little.

"_Isabella, who is this? When are we leaving?_" Zala demanded, looking nervous and defiant.

"_This is - _" Isabella looked at the barkeep who glowered back at her. "_A friend I think_."

"Look, sir, but there's about a hundred Death Eaters in Hogsmede heading for the castle," Isabella told the barkeep. "Unless you can help us to the Honeydukes or the Shrieking Shack - "

"All passages up to the castle have been close off," the stranger told her shortly. "But I can get you up to the castle."

"How?"

The man walked to the portrait of the girl and tugged on its frame. The painting swung forwards on the wall like a little door and the entrance to a tunnel was revealed.

"All the way through, all the way up," he told Isabella. "And tell Longbottom I don't want any more people traipsing through my pub." Even though he spoke gruffly, when Isabella went to the door, the barkeep kindly helped her up onto the mantlepiece and into the tunnel. Isabella helped the others up as well and reached to close the frame.

"Thank you,..." she began.

"Aberforth," he muttered.

"Thank you. Hecate bless," Isbella said, closing the door on his confused face. She turned and saw her friends waiting.

"_On and up_," she told them, making her way to the front of them. "_On and up._"


	18. The Battlements

Kingsley stepped forwards on the raised platform in the Great Hall of Hogwarts and addressed those students of age, teachers, and members of the Order of the Phoenix who had remained behind.

"We've only got half an hour until midnight, so we need to act fast! A battle plan has been agreed between the teachers of Hogwarts and the Order of the Phoenix. Professors Flitwick, Sprout and McGonagall are going to take groups of fighters up to the three highest Towers - Ravenclaw, Astronomy, and Gryffindor - where they'll have a good overview, excellent positions from which to work spells. Meanwhile, Remus," he indicated Lupin, "Arthur," he pointed towards Mr. Weasley, sitting at the Gryffindor table, "And I will take groups into the grounds. We'll need somebody to organize defense of the entrances of the passageways into the school - "

"Sound like a job for us," called Fred, indicating himself and George, and Kingsley nodded his approval.

"What about us?" a new voice called. Everyone in the hall turned and saw a new group of people, little over a dozen, entering, their purple robes billowing behind them.

"BELLA!"

"It's Isabella, it's her!"

"Bella, where did you come from?"

The dark-haired girl leading the band did not slow down, but advanced up the hall. The people behind her, who looked like older students, did not break step either, though a few glanced up at the magically enchanted ceiling and floating candles.

Making a motion with her hand, Isabella stopped all of her followers in their tracks. Isabella mounted the staircase and exchanged a few quiet words with Kingsley. Then she turned and looked down on the expectant group of purple-clad students.

"VIVA ITALIA!" she said, bringing her wand to her forehead, then sharply lowering it.

"VIVA!" they chorused, copying her salute. They fell into an at ease position, looking at Isabella and nowhere else.

"Where shall we take our stand?" Isabella asked Kingsley.

"What can they - "

"These are my duelers," she said proudly. "They fight and defend when necessary."

"I guess I'd better split them up among the other groups - "

"They do not speak your language," Isabella said.

"Well then, go up to the battlements and fight from there," Kingsley suggested, looking over the group. They possessed a military precision that both comforted and unnerved the other defenders of Hogwarts.

"All right, leaders up here and we'll divide into groups!" Kingsley shouted.

"Bella, where on earth did you come from?" Lupin asked her, looking amazed.

"Neville called me," she explained. "And I happened to be in the middle of a lesson. So I just brought them along." Her clipped, military style was abandoned and she smiled. Two bodies slammed into her, nearly knocking her off her feet.

"I missed you, too," Isabella wheezed, patting Fred and George on the back.

"BELLA!" someone shouted. Isabella's heart leapt to see Morgan plowing through the crowd, Alex just behind her.

"Morgan! Alex!" Isabella said, hugging the two of them fiercely.

"This is great!" Morgan squealed. "First Harry, then Luna, and now - "

"Luna's here?" Isabella demanded, searching the crowds. "Where - ?"

"Miss O'Reagan, we need to get started," Kingsley said, clearing his throat.

"Right," Isabella said, her voice changing once more to adopt a more authoritative tone. "I'll see you two later... and Luna!" She turned back to the group and leaders. As she did, Isabella caught sight of her Gloria-Manginatori standing stock still in a sea of people, still waiting for an order.

"Isabella, who are those students you brought?" Professor Flitwick asked. "Where do they come from?"

"They are the Glory-Eaters, self chosen defenders of Italy, students of the Academica de Italia," Isabella said. Suddenly she went very still and stared across the hall.

"What's...?" Lupin asked, following her gaze and seeing an empty doorway.

"Excuse me," she said abruptly, turning and leaping down the staircases.

Isabella followed the figure of Rowena, the ghost only she could see. The foundress had beckoned her off the dais, bidding her follow. The members of the VI stirred and called after her, but Isabella made no reply. She hurried down the hallway, following the swiftly advancing figure, who occasionally looked over her shoulder to make sure Isabella was following.

She rounded the corner, and ran smack into someone else.

"_Scusilo_!" she said, standing and peering down the hallway, but Rowena was gone.

"Bella?" the boy she had run into asked. He had also been knocked to the floor.

"Harry!" Isabella said, giving him a hand up and a brief hug. "Neville told me you were here, but I never..."

"Listen, Bella, I can't talk, I have to go find Ron and Hermione - " Harry said, already starting down the hallway, looking distracted.

"Wait! Harry, what do you know about Ravenclaw's diadem?" she had shouted it on an instinct. Or perhaps this was why Rowena had led her here, to tell Harry what she knew, but why would Harry care?

"What do you know?" Harry asked sharply, turing to look at her.

"I know where it's hidden," Isabella said. "In the Room of Hidden Things."

"Who told you - ?"

"Ravenclaw. Don't ask how, she just did," Isabella said, then she frowned. "Harry, it's been cursed, or something."

"I know!" Harry said, sprinting down the hallway. "Thanks, Bella!"

Isabella stared after him, confused. Suddenly, there was a loud bang, and then a sound like a low keening scream.

"The boundaries," Isabella muttered, turning and running back towards the Great Hall. By the time she burst in from the corridor, the last people were hurrying out the doors. The VI still stood there.

"_Isabella, what's going on? Where did you go? When are we going to fight?_"

"_Now!_" Isabella told them, raising her wand above her head. "_Will you follow me?_"

"_For Italy?_"

"_For Italy!_"

With a roar, they poured out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase. As they passed, some of the pictures called out encouragingly and one picture, a white haired man with a black cap and a long black cap jumped up and down in his frame, screaming, "_Ottengali! Ottengali! Vanno, gli italiani, vanno!_" A marble bust of an austere looking man turned as they passed and called, "In pro Roma et Hecate!"

The castle quaked beneath their feet as they ran and Isabella had the wild image of a snow globe being tossed about. Isabella hurtled around a corner and found Fred and a small knot of students, including Lee Jordan, Morgan, and Alex standing beside an empty plinth whose statue had concealed a secret passageway. Their wands were drawn and they were listening at the concealed hole.

"Bella!" they all cried, smiling at her as the castle trembled violently.

"Where's the statue?" she panted.

"Gone. McGonagall's enchanted them to fight," Fred told her. "Where are you headed?"

"Battlements," she said, motioning for her people to follow once more. Morgan and Alex stepped forward as one.

"We're coming with you," they announced. Isabella smiled at them, thinking she had never felt so happy to be with them. Morgan fell into step beside Zala and Alex walked next to Mariano.

Sprinting up yet another staircase, Isabella felt its telltale shift beneath her feet. "_Hold on!_" she warned. All the VI members gripped the staircase as the staircase began to shift. Isabella remembered that Ravenclaw had designed the staircases and wondered it she was helping her even now. When the stairs came to a halt, Isabella continued up them and pulled open a small wooden door.

The night sky was spangled with stars and a chill breeze came in from the mountains. On the grounds below, flashes of light told her where the Death Eaters and defenders of Hogwarts were locked in combat. Up above, silvery and blue spells poured from the Gryffindor Tower, disappearing into the air. The force of these spells colliding with dark, bloody red spells was what was causing the quaking.

"_Sparso fuori, fortifichi le pareti_," Isabella told her group.

"Can you say that in English?" Morgan asked. Isabella smiled at her.

"Spread out and fortify the walls," she said. "Don't fire into the darkness, we might hit an ally."

"It's good to see you," Morgan said, hugging Isabella tightly. She hesitated, then returned to hug. "Don't go near the dark-haired one," Isabella whispered in Morgan's ear.

"Why, is he yours?" Morgan asked, curious green eyes alighting on Emiliano.

"No, he's just a prat."

Morgan giggled and passed Emiliano to stand next to Mariano. Isabella would have to find time later to tell her why that relationship wouldn't work out. Alex slung an arm around Isabella's shoulders and sighed.

"You've no idea how much I've missed you," she said happily.

"Don't I?" Isabella asked. "Don't tell Morgan the guy she's standing next to is gay."

"And ruin the fun?" Alex chuckled. "No way."

Isabella turned out and stood with her wand raised for a second. She breathed in the smell of the wind, of heather and wild mountain thyme. Then she cut her wand through the air in a whistling arch.

"_Salvo hexia_," she murmured. A glittering golden thread shot from her wand and fell to the foot of the castle. It hung, shimmering and suspended from the tip of her wand to the grounds below. She twirled her wand and the string adhered to the wall and melted out of sight. All around her, VI members copied her movements and the wall was lit briefly by the glowing strands.

"What's that?" Alex asked, pointing towards the Forbidden Forest, where a large dark mass of things was swarming onto the grounds and toward the castle.

"_Acromantulas!_" Caterina shouted.

"_Arania Exumai_!" Isabella shouted, pointing into the mass of hairy legs. There was a faint squeal, but the other giant spiders kept coming. They came to the base of the wall and began to crawl up. The members of the VI and Alex and Morgan began to blast the Acromantulas off the wall, sending them tumbling into their fellows below.

"_Giants!_" Emiliano shouted. Sure enough, two huge, hulking figures lumbered around the side of the castle. They wielded immense clubs and one of them raised his weapon and smashed it down onto a wall about forty feet away from where they stood.

"_How do we kill them?_" Caterina shrieked, her trembling wand pointed at the mammoth enemy. But Isabella had no answer, and the pair of giants got closer and closer.

"Argh!" one of the giants roared, pointing towards the small group of fighters on the battlements. The other one looked and roared as well, winging his club over his head.

"MOVE!" Isabella screamed, pushing her group away from the giants, but the force of the blow knocked them to the ground. Someone screamed and fell off the wall. Isabella ran forward to try and help, and she slipped on some blood.

Mariano groaned and rolled over, clutching his clearly broken arm. Isabella knelt beside him and her hands fluttered uselessly over him.

"_Isabella, duck!"_ he warned, pulling her on top of him. The giant's club flew over her head, it's force creating a wind that tousled her hair. Mariano whimpered; she was lying on his arm.

A throbbing, wailing cry began somewhere in the night. Isabella rolled off Mariano and stood.

"Castro?" she asked, unbelieving. The augury called again and wheeled over the battlements. Behind him, like an immense feathery cloud, came all of the owls of the school. They wheeled together and, moving as one, attacked the giants, scratching at their eyes and driving them away.

"_We have to get you out of here!_" Isabella shouted in Mariano's ear. "_Can you stand?_"

"_I think so_," he said, gritting his teeth and allowing Isabella and Alex to help him up. They started towards the door, Mariano limping and clutching his hurt arm.

"_Watch out!_" Zala shouted, throwing herself sideways. Isabella grabbed Alex's arm and tugged her over as Caterina seized Mariano's unhurt arm and pulled him to safety. A fiery red spell hit the wall and the battlements exploded into a mass of flame. Isabella saw the faces of the Gloria-Manginatori lit up by the wild fire.

"MORGAN!" Alex screamed and launched herself into the flames.

"Alex, no!" Isabella shouted, jumping up and running after her, but Emiliano grabbed her waist and held her back.

Sound and time seemed to slow down. Alex ran into the flames, which engulfed her and hid her from view. The flickering fire leapt higher, hungrily eating up the stars above. Isabella was distantly aware that she was screaming.


	19. Terry

"_They're gone, Leone,_" Emilian told her. "_Gone. You - you cant h-help them now._" His voice broke and he turned his face from her.

"No," Isabella whispered. "No. They're there. They've fallen... they aren't dead." But even if they had fallen, it was a several story drop. "No..."

"_Isabella!_" Mariano screamed as she turned and threw herself through the wooden door and down the staircase. "_Isabella, come back!_" But Isabella could not go back. No, Alex and Morgan were alive... they were lying at the foot of the castle... they might be hurt but they weren't dead... they needed her help... they needed her...

She ran down a staircase and found herself in a corridor full of duelers. The portraits on either side of the fighters were crammed with figures, screaming advice and encouragement, while Death Eaters both masked and unmasked dueled students and teachers.

Isabella raised her wand and threw herself among them in a desperate bid to get to the end of the hallway, where another staircase would take her down...

But a tall, dark woman with heavily lidded eyes blocked her way.

"Bellatrix," Isabella hissed. She had encountered the deranged, fanatic Death Eater once before in the Department of Mysteries. The similarity in their names had been the only thing to save her then.

Bellatrix's eyes widened to see Isabella, and she smiled a maniacal grin. With a slash of her wand, she began to duel. Isabella, who seconds ago had wanted nothing more than to pass through the duels without engaging in one, plunged herself into the fight with a vengeance. In her mind, the suffering of Alex and Morgan were inexplicably linked with this fight.

The duels around the two woman stopped as the heat of their spells filled the corridor and the force of their combat literally pushed others aside. Bellatrix's dark eyes, at first laughing with mockery, turned hard as she focused all her energy on the duel. The Death Eater used both hands to raise her wand and bringing it down sharply. Jumping aside just in time, Isabella felt something like a sword graze past her, ripping her robes.

Isabella lashed out with her wand in a moment when her opponent recovered from the force of her last spell. Bellatrix snarled and placed a hand to her cheek as a welt appeared there, almost as though she had been whipped.

"We aren't so different, you and I," Isabella told Bellatrix, circling her. She felt more like a lion than she ever had in her human form. "Are we, Bella?"

"Don't you dare call me that!" Bellatrix hissed and shot a curse at Isabella, who deflected it with a flick of her wand.

Isabella pointed her wand at Bellatrix and made a punching motion with her other hand as though to follow through the spell. The Death Eater was launched backwards where she hit a wall and slid out of sight. Not waiting to see if she would get up, Isabella ran past her and started down the staircase.

The other Death Eaters must have been stunned, for no one made a move to stop her. Isabella pushed past Dean Thomas and Parvati Patil, and did not falter until she heard an achingly familiar voice: "Bella?" Isabella looked back over her shoulder, one foot already on the step down. Terry stared back at her, his face white and sooty with a long scratch down his cheek. Isabella shook her head, and ran down the staircase.

Terry called after her again, but there was a bang and the fighting started back up on the corridor above.

A huge, hairy man was running down the stairs just in front of her. Hagrid was brandishing his flowery pink umbrella and shouting.

"Don't hurt 'em, don't hurt 'em!" he yelled. Isabella wondered who on earth Hagrid could be shouting to or about, believing for one wild moment he was simply shouting at the Death Eaters, but then she leapt down the last few stairs and saw them: Acromantulas. The giant spiders had forced their way into the Entrance Hall, scattering the fighters who fired jets of red and green light into the oncoming monsters.

"HAGRID, NO!" someone shouted, their voice just audible to Isabella over the screams of the fighters and the squeals of the spiders. "HAGRID, COME BACK!" And Harry appeared out of nowhere right in front of Isabella, sprinting towards the half-giant. But Hagrid vanished amid the spiders and the monsters retreated with half-giant buried in their midst. "HAGRID!" Harry bellowed yet again, following.

"Harry!" Isabella screamed, taking off after him. She sprinted down the front steps after him into the dark grounds, and the spiders were swarming away.

A giant loomed out of the darkness, his monumental foot swung down right next to Harry. With one brutal, fluid movement, it smashed a massive fist through an upper window and glass rained down upon Harry and Isabella. Harry retreated back under the shelter of the doorway, but Isabella ran, hands over her head, past the giant's foot and along the base of the castle walls. Someone screamed behind her, but the sight of the giant had reminded Isabella of why she had come down here, who she was trying to find.

A smaller giant, one Isabella recognized from Dumbledore's funeral, lurched around the corner of the castle. "HAGGER?" he asked, looking around on the ground. The other giant looked around and let out a roar. The ground trembled as he stomped towards his smaller kin, and the giant near Isabella charged towards his larger counterpart. Isabella managed to flatten herself to the wall to avoid their vicious squall.

She was almost to the Northern battlements when she came across another group of duelers. A woman danced before Isabella and, with a guilty lurch of her stomach, Isabella recognized Nymphadora Tonks. But the woman Tonks was dueling... "Bellatrix?" Isabella asked, her voice cracking slightly. How had the woman gotten down here before Isabella?

The answer came as another Death Eater joined the fight. They were leaping out the second story window and using a cushioning charm to slow their fall. Isabella was torn between joining the fight and continuing on. She thought of Morgan's body, broken and pale and her mind was made up. She ran by the duelers, hoping to run so fast that they would not notice her.

A flash of green light and a scream stopped Isabella in her tracks. She looked back and saw Tonks fall to the ground, limp, like a puppet with cut strings.

"TONKS!" a man bellowed. But it was not Remus who jumped out of the darkness, it was Isabella's father.

"Papi?" she asked, unbelieving. Yet there he stood, golden curls plastered down with sweat and hazel eyes caught between grief and fury. He turned on Bellatrix and they began to duel fiercely, exchanging spells skillfully and silently. Now that Isabella looked closer at the fighters, she recognized her mother among them as well, dueling Dolohov. She looked like a panther as she fought, dark and with such a deadly beauty that her movements almost hypnotic.

"Bella!" Isabella turned around, wand still raised, and saw Terry limping after her. One of the bundles on the ground, which Isabella had taken to be injured or fallen fighters, stirred and began to stand.

"Terry, watch out!" Isabella screamed, aiming her wand at the rising Death Eater. There was a bang and a flash of light as the Death Eater screamed and fell back, clutching his face.

"What are you doing?" Isabella shouted, turning on Terry. "Why are you following me?"

"I don't know!" he yelled back at her. "I just... I need to be with you. To make sure you were - " He was cut off as a horde of ghosts mounted on skeletal mounts poured directly out of the wall next to them and charged the Death Eaters, the heads the held under their arms giving blood-curdling screams. Isabella grabbed Terry's arm and pulled him after her.

They ran straight into a pair of masked Death Eaters who were running to the aid of their colleagues.

"_Imepdimenta!_" Terry yelled, and one of the Death Eaters was blasted off his feet. Isabella shot a stunning spell past the second Death Eater's head, but it missed him by inches.

"_Avada - _" he said, brandishing his wand, but Terry bowled into him and tackled him to the ground. The first Death Eater was recovering and pointed his wand carefully at Terry's back. Isabella's scream turned into a roar as she launched herself towards him, her lion claws extending. When she landed on him, she was in her lion form and her powerful claws held him down as he screamed and kicked.

Isabella snatched up his wand and snapped it between her powerful teeth. Suddenly, a searing pain lashed across her back, and Isabella fell away with a howl. The Death Eater seized his chance and leapt to his feet, running full pelt towards the Forest. Isabella growled after him half heartedly.

Something touched Isabella's shoulder and she jumped with a snarl.

"It's me, Bella," Terry said soothingly. "I've got your wand, here." She transformed and took her wand from him. They stood silently for a moment and Isabella suddenly realized, with a terrible pain in her heart, that Morgan and Alex were not waiting for her. Because they were dead. And she had been fooling herself thinking otherwise.

"Do you think - " Isabella asked Terry, looking towards the Forest. "That there's any hope left?"

"I don't know, Bella, I just don't know," he said quietly. Quite suddenly, a high, cold voice spoke so close to them that Isabella jumped and clutched Terry's arm.

Voldemort's voice reverberated around them and it seemed as though he was breathing down their necks, a death blow away.

"You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat, immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured."

"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall kill every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

The voice was gone then, leaving an empty, cold, unforgiving silence. Isabella saw several of the Death Eaters vanish and the giants stomped after them into the darkness of the forest. Here, where she and Terry stood together at the base of the wall, they could see and were not seen.

Small bundles seemed to litter the lawn at the front of the castle. It could only be an hour or so from dawn, yet it was pitch black.

Isabella saw figures in the group of fighters her parents had been a part of bend down and look at these bundles. They helped some to their feet and supported them as they limped to the Great Hall. Isabella drew closer and saw her father kneeling at Tonk's side. She was pale and still and peaceful-looking, almost as though she slept.

Patrick O'Reagan's body quaked with grief as he held his best friend's limp hand. Antonia Petrroci hovered near him, a hand upon his shoulder.

"Mami? Papi?" They looked up and their expressions were a cross between surprise and relief.

"Bella? What are you doing here?" her father asked, wiping his face on his charred and tattered sleeve.

"I could ask you the same," she said wearily. "Neville called all members of the DA."

"Well," her father said, licking his lips and standing unsteadily. "I never told you this, but I joined the Order a few months ago."

"I knew," Isabella said. "Or rather, guessed."

"You came straight from school?" her mother asked, looking at Isabella's robes. Isabella nodded and swayed slightly.

"I have to go check on the others," she said. "Mariano broke his arm."

"Wait, you brought people from your school?" her father asked, blinking short-sightedly.

"I didn't so much bring them as they insisted they come," Isabella shrugged.

Terry followed her up the front steps without saying a word. Instead, he quietly slipped his hand into hers. The flagstones of the Entrance hall were stained with blood. Emeralds from the Slytherin hourglass were scattered all over the floor along with pieces of marble and splintered wood.

The door to the Great Hall was opened and people were wearily making their way through the doors. The first of the dead were being laid out on the floor. The wounded were limping or being carried to the raised platform at the other end of the room.

Then Isabella heard a terrible cry that pulled at her heart, that expressed agony of a kind neither flame nor curse could cause. It seemed an echo of her own pain when she had finally realized that Alex and Morgan were dead.

Someone was laying out a body on the floor. The boy's face was pale and merry even in death. His red hair seemed bright against his white, bloodless face.

"No. NO! FRED!"

And before she knew it, Isabella was curled in Terry's arms, her body wracked with sobs. And he was comforting her, not with words, for how could words possibly heal the tear in her heart? No, he was simply there, alive and breathing, something to hold onto while the world crashed around her.


	20. And they're gone

_Do you hear the people sing?_

_Lost in the valley of the night_

_It is the music of a people who are climbing to the light_

_For the wretched of the earth_

_There is a flame that never dies_

_Even the darkest nights will end and the sun will rise_

_They will live again in freedom in the garden of the Lord_

_They will walk behind the bloodshed_

_They will put away the sword_

_The chain will be broken and all men will have their reward!_

_ - Les Miserables_

Isabella met them as they limped, a tight, frightened group, down the stairs between the fourth and third floor.

"_Thank Christ!_" Zala said. "_What's going on? We heard that voice again, and then the fighting stopped._"

"_We've been given a reprieve of one hour_," Isabella explained. "_How's Mariano?_"

"_His arm needs tending_," Zala said. Mariano, his teeth clenched tightly together and arm held close to his side, nodded.

"_Is anyone else hurt?_" Isabella asked. "_Who was it who fell?_"

"_Sara,_" Isabella recognized the girl as being Caterina's friend, but was ashamed she knew nothing else about her. "_Emiliano has a pretty bad gash, he heard a Death Eater coming up the stairs and he wasn't quick enough in barricading the door._"

"_I'm fine_," the Greek shrugged, but his forehead was still bleeding. "_Let's get Mariano downstairs_."

"Bella, where's Morgan? I thought she and Alex were with you," Terry said, looking over the tattered group.

"They - " Isabella's throat closed up a little. "They're dead, Terry." He looked horrified and turned his head away as his body shook.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I shouldn't have asked." Then he pulled Isabella into a hug and together they led the remnants of the VI downstairs.

Mariano and Emilano reported to the area for the injured, sitting down next to Firenze the centaur whose leg was bleeding.

Isabella and Terry wandered among the dead. Tonks and Lupin had been laid out side by side next to Fred. Isabella's father stood next to Tonks, but rather than looking at her his face was buried in her mother's long dark hair.

Colin Creevy, Isabella's classmate from Gryffindor house, was also there. If she remembered correctly, he was underage. But he must have snuck back in to fight.

Isabella met Caterina where the older girl kneeled beside Sara's body. Isabella stared hard at Sara, as though trying to make up for not knowing her in life by memorizing her features in death. Sara had been thin and blonde. She had had a delicate, willowy look and her pale eyelashes had framed wide eyes. Her purple robes were torn and twisted, and her legs were broken by the fall she had taken.

And at last, as though she had been putting it off, Isabella turned towards Fred's body.

But as she walked towards him, Professor Flitwick stepped in front of her.

"I think there's something you should see," he said.

"Can it..." Isabella's voice died. The Charms teacher was holding a limp bundle of green feathers. Castro.

How can a heart suffer so much loss and still live? How can it be torn into so many pieces and yet still beat?

Isabella took the dead bird gently in her hands. A single tear fell upon the green plumage and rolled off. But whatever had been inside the bird that had made her love him, trust him, call him her beautiful one - that was gone. And this wasn't her Castro. This was his shell. When he had died, his soul had gone, carrying a piece of her heart with him.

There was a disturbance at the doors of the Entrance Hall, but it seemed far away. Isabella's entire world lay still and cold in her hands. And nothing would wake him again. Because he was gone. Gone, just like Fred and Alex and Morgan.

"NO!" Isabella was stirred by the sound of Professor McGonagall's scream.

"No!"

"_No!_"

"Harry! HARRY!"

Isabella recognized Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's voices as though they were coming to her from a long way off. And people were streaming towards the door, shouting and screaming and yelling.

Gently, with all the tenderness she had ever felt towards the augury, Isabella set Castro's body down between that of Lupin and Colin. Then she stood and shakily made her way to the crowd. Numbly, she pushed her way through them until she could see what they were all staring at.

Voldemort stood there, facing the school, his great snake curled around his shoulders. Behind him stood Hagrid, his face bloody and bloated with tears. The Death Eaters stood in a long line on either side of them, silent and gloating. And in Hagrid's arms lay Harry Potter - dead.

"No," Isabella whispered, but this time grief did not numb her. Rather, it filled her up with anger and frustration. Because if Voldemort won now, all their deaths would have been in vain.

"SILENCE!" cried Voldemort, and there was a bang and a flash of bright light and everyone around Isabella fell silent, as though their mouths had been forcibly slammed shut. "It is over!" Voldemort continued. "Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet where he belongs!" Hagrid, seemingly forced to obey, lowered Harry gently to the grass. The way he did it, so tenderly and gently, reminded Isabella with a pang of how she had set down Castro's little body.

"You see?" said Voldemort, striding backwards and forwards right beside the place Harry lay. "Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

"He beat you!" yelled Ron, and the charm broke, and the defenders of Hogwarts were shouting and screaming again.

"That's right!" Isabella shouted, tears pouring down her face. "Harry was brave! He fought you and he was always a better man than - " A second, more powerful bang extinguished her voice along with everyone else.

"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," said Voldemort. "Killed while trying to save himself - "

But someone broke away from the crowd and rushed at Voldemort. There was another bang and a flash of light as Neville fell to his knees and grunted in pain. His wand was cast aside by Voldemort who laughed.

"And who is this?" he hissed. "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?" Voldemort waved his wand and a few seconds later, out of one of the castle's shattered windows, something that looked like a misshapen bird flew through the half-light and landing in Voldemort's hand. He shook the mildewed object by its pointed end and it dangled, empty and ragged: the Sorting Hat.

Voldemort pointed his wand at Neville, who grew rigid and still, then he forced the Hat on to Neville's head, so that it slipped down below his eyes. Isabella felt the crowd shift around her and the Death Eaters raised their wands, holding the fighters of Hogwarts at bay.

"This boy is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me," said Voldemort, and with a flick of his wand, he caused the Sorting Hat to burst into flames.

Isabella screamed. She could not, would not watch another friend perish in flames. With her wand raised, she launched herself forward.

There was an uproar from the distant boundary of the school as what looked like hundreds of people came swarming over the walls and pelted towards the castle, uttering loud war cries.

Then came hooves and the twangs of bows, and arrows were suddenly falling among the Death Eaters, who broke ranks, shouting their surprise as the centaurs charged.

Isabella, who had tried to leap forward, was pushed back into the Entrance Hall by the sheer numbers of people.

The door that led to the kitchens was blasted off its hinges as the house-elves of Hogwarts, screaming and waving carving knives and cleavers, joining the fight. They hacked and stabbed at the ankles and shins of Death Eaters.

Isabella came face to face with Thorfinn Rowle, a large blonde Death Eater who had been one of the ones to break in to Hogwarts last year. Isabella shot a jinx at him, but he threw up a Shield Charm just in time. Rowle snarled and cast a curse at Isabella, who ducked the purple jet of light which flew over her head and into the crowd beyong.

She tried to stun him, but her aim was poor and the spell went in wildly in the wrong direction. Rowle grinned like a child playing with a toy as he pointed his wand at her and said, "_Avada - _"

"STAY AWAY FROM HER!" Terry shouted, hitting Rowle in the back with a spell. The Death Eater crumpled to the floor and lay still. Terry helped Isabella up, keeping one arm around her waist as she stood shakily.

Voldemort was dueling McGonagall, Slughorn, and Kingsley all at once. Bellatrix was closer to Isabella and Terry, and she too battled three at once: Hermione, Ginny, and Luna.

Luna. This was Isabella's first time seeing her in over a year. And as a Killing Curse shot just over Luna's head, Isabella's grip on her wand tightened. But before she could get there, a Killing Curse shot just an inch away from Ginny's cheek.

"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!" Mrs. Wealsey threw off her clock as she ran, freeing her arms. Bellatrix spun on the spot, roaring with laughter at the sight of her new challenger.

"OUT OF MY WAY!" shouted Mrs. Weasley and with a swipe of her wand she began to duel. Molly Weasley's wand slashed and twirled, and Bellatrix Lestrange's smile faltered, and became a snarl.

"No!" Mrs. Weasley cried, as a few students ran forwards, trying to come to her aid. "Get back! _Get back!_ She is mine!"

"What will happen to your children when I've killed you?" taunted Bellatrix, capering as Molly's curses danced around her. "When Mummy's gone the same way as Freddie?"

"You - will - never - touch - our - children - again!" screamed Mrs. Weasley. Bellatrix gave an exhilarated laugh.

Molly's curse soared beneath Bellatrix's outstretched arm and hit her squarely in the chest, directly over her heart. Bellatrix's gloating smile froze and for the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened. Her eyes found Isabella's and they seemed to plead her for something, something Isabella would not give, then Bellatrix toppled.

The crowd around Isabella roared, but she could only stare at Bellatrix's body.

"_We aren't so different, you and I. Are we, Bella?"_

Voldemort screamed and McGonagall, Kingsley, and Slughorn were blasted backwards, flailing and writhing through the air as Voldemort's fury exploded with the force of a bomb. Voldemort raised his wand and directed it at Molly Weasley.

"_Protego!_" someone roared. Harry suddenly appeared in the middle of the hallway, a shimmering silvery blue cloak held in his hand.

The yell of shock, the cheers, the screams on every side of "Harry!" "HE'S ALIVE!" were stifled at once. The crowd was afraid, and silence fell abruptly and completely as Voldemort and Harry began to circle each other.

"I don't want anyone else to try to help," Harry said loudly. "It's got to be like this. It's got to be me."

How Isabella wished she could have said that in regards to Bellatrix. How she wished it had been she to finish off that deranged lieutenant of Voldemort. Because then it would have been closed and she wouldn't be left feeling empty and uncompleted. The Gold Raven had risen, but Isabella had not answered its call. Was this what the Oracle and Rowena had meant: lion-not-lion? Was she brave and courageous, but failed to answer?


	21. Grief

A great many things were said between Harry and Voldemort. Isabella heard them distantly, for is seemed she could not stop thinking of Bellatrix's wild laugh and her last, silent plea.

All that she knew was that, though Voldemort was dead and everyone else was rejoicing, Isabella felt that something larger that Voldemort was coming. She could tell the members of the VI felt it too. Everyone around them was celebrating and grieving, cheering and mourning.

The VI hung on the sidelines, a separate group. Isabella was utterly torn between the two. She felt the loss of Alex, Morgan, Castro, and Fred keenly, but also the terrible loneliness of feeling like the only one who had to go back home to a war-torn country where discrimination went beyond magic.

Luna and Isabella spent a few minutes alone amid the jubilation, arms wrapped around each other, silently grieving the loss of their best friends. Terry was a constant presence and gentle comfort, but Isabella knew she would be leaving him soon.

Her parents had agreed to let her stay for the three funerals. The rest of the VI was sent back to the Academia, but Isabella retreated to the shelter of the Scottish cottage.

They buried Castro beneath a weeping cherry tree. Spring blossoms, still falling this late in the season, coated his grave with pink petals.

Morgan's family only wanted a very small funeral. Luna and Isabella were invited, but they were the only ones outside of the Baker family. Isabella brought a wreath of hyacinth flowers and placed them on the empty coffin. This was the hardest of the three funerals, simply because Morgan had been so overflowing with life, so filled with curiosity and love and vitality that it was hard to imagine her lifeless and broken.

Morgan's mother, a tall regal-looking witch with blonde hair, did not cry. Isabella did not think less of her for this, knowing how it felt to have utterly spent your tears. Morgan's father was fair with bright green eyes; quiet and solemn, his silent tears traced silver lines down his cheek.

Alex's memorial was more full. Her grandparents and parents and cousins and aunts and uncles had shown up. They all cried, but there was a phoniness about it that Isabella hated. It was almost as though these extra people, people who hadn't really known Alex and just felt obligated to attend, were intruding on the real grief of a select few.

Isabella brought no flowers to Alex's memorial. She knew Alex would not have like something as frivolous as plants.

When she had been at Morgan's funeral, Isabella thought it strange to have a casket and no body. Now, however, she realized how strange it was to not have a casket. To the Muggle members of Alex's family, her parents claimed she had died in a fire and her body couldn't be recovered. This was, of course, true, but Isabella thought it excluded all of the heroism Alex had shown in her final acts.

The air was unseasonably cold. Isabella shivered slightly, wishing she had thought to bring a shawl. She stepped off the wet grass she had apparated upon and onto the gravel path. Far up ahead on hill's slope was the black marquee, golden light peeping out of its cracks, promising warmth inside.

Isabella's shoes stuck a little in the mud as she walked up the hill. The brisk winds flurried around her, like curious birds that tugged her hair and clothes. The black silk roses on her dress rumpled crossly and crouched low.

Someone was coming down to meet her. George Weasley was somber, his normally laughing brown eyes downcast. His red hair had gotten longer and shaggier, in a vain attempt to cover up the hole where his ear had been. He wore black, but his clothes seemed baggy, as though he had lost weight. George's fine shoes slipped and skidded on the gravel as he came down to Isabella.

"Bella - " he began, his brown eyes pained. "Bella, I - " but he seemed unable to go on. Isabella wrapped her arms around him and he laid his head on hers.

"I know," she whispered. They stood for a moment, silent and trembling, before the raindrops began to fall. George offered Isabella his arm and helped her up the rest of the slope and into the black tent.

Rows upon rows of hard-backed seats were facing the front, where a coffin lay upon its rest. George seemed unable to look there, as though he couldn't bear to see his twin's dead body.

A large number of people had come to bid Fred Weasley their last farewells. Isabella saw Harry, Hermione, Angelina Johnson, and Lee Jordan sitting amid the red-haired Weasley clan. George slipped away to join them as well.

"Bella," someone called softly. Isabella turned and saw Terry in the final row. Members of the DA sat back here, as though trying to give the family space. Isabella slid into the seat beside Terry, who took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"My brothers and sisters, we are gathered here today not only to grieve the loss of a friend, but also celebrate the life of a wonderful man," the tiny, tufted-hair officiant began. "Fred Weasley was a kind, compassionate, and loyal friend. He demonstrated great bravery and tremendous talent. It is hard to think someone so full of life could lose that life."

Isabella felt tears welling in her eyes. What good were words to describe the person Fred Weasley had been? If Fred had been here, he would have laughed at this tiny man spouting sentimental dribble. But Fred wasn't here.

Rain pattered on the marquee walls as the service continued. It was interesting how the sound of the leaves thrashing in the rain sounded like wings fluttering.

Isabella realized too late that those were not leaves, but actually were wings. She only knew that when a particularly strong gust of wind tore through a gap in the tent walls and a thoroughly wet, disgruntled-looking hawk had flown in.

Mourners gasped and turned to watch the bird - Isabella could see now that it was Tarquinius - ruffle his feathers and soar over to her.

"Well - um -," the little wizard said, completely distracted. "Oh, yes, a reading from..." he went on, and Isabella glared at Tarquinius.

"Go away," she hissed. "I'm in the middle of - ouch!" Tarquinius dug his talons into her arm. Terry slapped the bird until he loosened his grip and Isabella untied the message around Tarquinius' leg.

As she read, her face went white and the hand clutching the page tensed until her knuckles stood out white.

"What's wrong?" Terry asked in a hushed whisper, but Isabella stood abruptly, causing her chair to fly back.

"Really, miss!" the wizard squeaked indignantly. "We are having a - " But Isabella turned and ran out of the tent. Terry stood and, looking around at the shocked faces, slipped out after her.

Isabella stood about ten feet from the tent, still clutching the letter. She was re-reading it, apparently unable to believe what was written.

"Bella, what's all this - ?" George had followed them out. He was pale and wan, nearly stumbling through the mud.

"I'm sorry, George!" Isabella shouted over the rain. "But I have - I have -" She crumpled the paper in her hand. "I'm sorry," she mouthed, then disappeared with a crack.

"BELLA!" the two young men shouted, but she was gone, leaving nothing but rain in her wake and the letter, which fell to the ground like a shot bird. Terry dove for the paper and picked it up.


	22. The Fallen House

Isabella stood in the middle of the dirt road. The skies were clear and she dripped water onto the path, her black dress soaked through.

Villa Petrroci reared up before her, shockingly bright against a clear blue sky. The massive doors which had once stood as twin guards had been blasted away. One of them was an unrecognizably charred lump while the other one hung limply on its hinges.

Isabella walked up the path, terrified to see what might be inside. She gently touched one of the doors, which groaned as though in pain and swung forward to admit her. The walls of the villa rose up, stained with scorch marks and crumbling in more than a few places.

The courtyard was empty. The only sign of the chickens which had once clucked and strutted here were a number of feathers strewn about the ground. The earth had been churned up, as though a great many people had run through. A few strange men lay here and there. Isabella went to one of them and nudged him with her foot. They were dead.

In the middle of the yard, lying on her face, lay Great-Aunt Guilia. Her white hair was tucked under a kerchief, as though she had run from the kitchen, and she still held her wand pointed towards the door. Blood was pooling underneath her. Florean's body lay near the entrance of the stables, his round face surprised and his wand halfway out of his pocket.

She found Lorenzo's body in the stables, propped up against the door of a stall. The winged horses were kicking, trying to break out of their stalls, spooked by the attacks and the stench of death.

Isabella stumbled across the yard and into the kitchen. Here, it seemed, the women of the house had been trapped. Marta's body was near the door, and her arms were flung open as though attempting to forcibly stop the attackers from entering. Aunt Luisa lay crumpled in the middle of the floor, her face frozen in a horrified mask. Aunt Elena was slumped in the back corner, her hands over her face as though warding off the death blow. All three women were wandless.

Running through the courtyard, which was painted red with feathers and blood, Isabella thundered up the staircase and into the house.

It had been ransacked. Doors were thrown open, furniture overturned and bookshelves toppled. The attackers had been looking for something. Or someone.

Upstairs, there were a large number of the enemies' bodies lying, one on top of the other, outside Grandfather's study. They seemed to have been blasted backward by some great spell. Isabella clambered over them, not caring it she stepped on them, desperate to reach the study.

Leonardo Petrroci lay slumped over the desk; his wand still pointed towards the door. The leather-bound books that had resided in the shelves all around the room had been thrown off the walls. They lay on the floor, so many pages with so many words that seemed so meaningless now.

She stepped carefully to his side, touching her grandfather's shoulder. He did not stir. His face was pale, drained of blood, save for a dark trickle that had dripped from his mouth in a dark line. This was not the result of a killing curse. Leornardo Petrroci had died from the effort it cost to cast his final spell, the spell that killed all those men outside.

Isabella wandered over the house, feeling in a daze. It was like walking through a nightmare.

The door of the nursery hung ajar. Isabella went up to it an gently pushed it open.

Here were the children. They lay about the room, like marionettes with cut strings. Juliet lay near the door, her arms outstretched in a vain attempt to protect the little ones behind her. Adalina, Noemi, Paolo, Peppe - even little Pallas was unnaturally silent in his crib. Tonio sat slumped against the cabinet, as though he had slid down it when the killing curse hit.

A small noise came from the cabinet. Isabella drew her wand and pointed it towards the door above Tonio's head. She slowly advanced, keeping her wand at the ready. Gently, tenderly, she picked up Tonio's body and set him aside. Then she unlatched the cabinet, held her breath, and pulled it open sharply.

Something flew out at her, screaming and pummeling her with small fists. Isabella dropped her wand and seized the thin wrists, holding the tiny child away. Beatrice's face was screwed up and she continued to scream for her mother.

"_Beatrice! Beatrice, it's me!_" Isabella shouted over the child's cries. "_It's Bella!_" All at once, Beatrice seemed to recognized her, for she buried her face in Isabella's dress and clutched her knees tightly, sobbing.

"_Hush, hush,_" Isabella murmured, picking the girl up and holding her close. "_It's going to be - _" But it wouldn't be all right. This room was filled with the dead, and nothing would every be all right ever again. Isabella couldn't take anymore. Holding Beatrice close, Isabella ran from the room, flew down the stairs, and sprinted across the courtyard. She stopped in the doorway and looked back.

"_Isabella,_" someone said. She turned and saw the Minister, Basilio de Piero, standing less than a foot away. "_I'm so sorry for your loss._" He lay a hand on Isabella's shoulder, the one Beatrice was not crying into.

"_What happened?_" she asked, her voice cracking. "_They were supposed to be protected, the villa was protected..._"

"_We believe the Fidelius Charm was broken,_" Basilio said.

"_No one knew except - _" Isabella stopped, realizing what he was saying. "_No. No, no one would have... Not our family..._"

"_We found Caesario's body in Assisi,_" Basilio told her. "_He had been tortured. A few hours before, the revoltoso had broken into the Academia. They used the Cruciatus Curse on Valentino and Rosina, but Tina escaped and brought the Professors to save them. The revoltoso were outnumbered and fled. Then this._"

"_Are they all right?_" Isabella asked quietly.

"_Valentino and Rosina? Yes, a little shaken up, but alive,_" the Minister nodded. "_They don't know what's happened yet._"

"_The Ministry is sorry for your loss,_" he continued. "_Please, if there's anything we can do..._"

And everything clicked. Grandfather had not simply taken Isabella to the Ministry so many times that summer for no reason. It had been no accident she was left alone for long stretches of time. Just as it had been no accident that Basilio had found her. Leonardo hoped they would become a couple. He had groomed Signor de Peiro for his role as Minister, so clearly he had liked him. Perhaps even hoped the dashing young Italian would take over the Petrroci family when Leonardo himself was gone. And Isabella would stay at home, tending the family affairs.

"_It's too late,_" Isabella said aloud. "_The House of Petrroci is ended._"

"_No, it's not,_" Basilio assured her. "_You'll see, everyone will move back in and repairs can be made..._"

"_Not the Villa,_" Isabella cut him off. "_The House. It is no more. This is the end of the greatest, the oldest of Italian families._"

"_But you still have family alive..._" he frowned, confused. "_I don't - _"

"Bella!" she turned towards the familiar voice. Terry, sopping wet with brown hair plastered to his forehead, ran up the path. Basilio frowned as the younger man drew closer.

"Bella, I'm so sorry!" Terry gasped. "After everything else - "

"_Who's this?_" the Minister interrupted rudely.

"_This is Terry,_" Isabella told him. "_From England._" Terry had stopped, confused by the different language. When he saw the tall, dark man standing next to Isabella with his hand on her shoulder, he visibly paled.

"_I think you should leave,_" Isabella told Basilio.

"_But - _"

"_Leave. Now._" The Minister frowned, but stepped back with a bow and disapparated.

"Terry..." Isabella said, turning back to him. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't seem to find the words. He took two strides and held her in his arms. Beatrice squeaked as she was trapped between the two, both of whom were very wet.

The wind picked up, pushing against the remains of the doors until they slowly, achingly swung shut.


	23. Epilogue

The first-year students stood outside the classroom, nervously twirling their hair and shifting their weight. This was going to be their first Transfiguration lesson at Hogwarts and many of them, especially the Muggle-borns who had never seen magic before today, were nervous.

The door swung open suddenly, startling those nearest the door. One of the girls dropped her books and scrambled to pick it up.

The witch who stood in the door was stunningly beautiful. Her long dark hair hung over her shoulder, and a golden headband gleamed like a tiara. Her dress was gauzy red, billowing down. A golden girdle ringed a slim waist and her dark eyes flashed. Her wand was long and slender.

But her smile was kind and when she spoke, it was gently accented. "Come in," she said, "Come in and have a seat."

The room was spacious and filled with books and cages of well-fed, healthy looking animals. When a few of the bolder students took a closer look, they were surprised to see that not all of the books were on spells. Shakespeare, Plato, and Euripides had found a place here.

On one of the walls hung a large painting. In it, a young witch with pale blonde hair was seated on a velvet chair. She wore a blue dress and had sparkling green eyes which smiled on the students below her. A tall girl stood behind the chair, her short brown hair tucked behind her ears. She also wore blue, but she seemed a little more critical in her examination of the new students. A tall boy with flaming red hair and a scarlet shirt grinned from beside her.

On the opposite wall, a portrait of a severe looking man with a trim white beard considered the room. He wore long black robes and stood against a royal purple backdrop. Occasionally he looked at the Professor and shook his head with a sort of bemused smile.

A large animal stirred near the desk. A few of the Muggle-borns gasped as the thing raised its head. It had all the appearance of a dog-sized ferret, who blinked sleepy eyes as it stretched.

"This lot doesn't look too bright," the creature spoke.

"Hush, Schmendrick," the woman scolded gently. "That isn't a very nice thing to say." She turned and smiled at her class.

"Welcome to transfiguration," she said softly. "I am Isabella Boot, your Professor. You may call me Miss or Professor Boot. Now, some would say Transfiguration is the most complex and demanding of the magics, but with hard work and a little practice, it can also be the most rewarding." She pointed at Schmendrick and the jarvey turned a violent shade of pink.

"Come off it!" he wailed. "Change me back!" She smiled and did so.

"There are many types of Transfiguartion," she explained. "That between two similar objects, say, a porcupine and a pincushion, will be the easiest. The hardest will be self transfiguration. Is everyone writing this down?"

After class, a few of the students stood outside in the courtyard for their break.

"I heard she's an animagus," one of them said

"What's that?" a girl asked timidly.

"It's when a wizard can change into an animal and back without a wand," the first one explained.

"Isn't she married to that man who works in Ollivander's?" another boy asked. "He makes and sells wands, ever since Ollivander retired."

"Yes, that's the one."

"Doesn't she have a daughter?"

"An adopted one. She goes to school in Italy. I heard that she's actually Professor Boot's cousin or something, but her parents died so the professor raised her."

"Professor Boot has a son, too. I saw him in Ollivander's," the girl insisted. "He's seven, with light brown hair and dark eyes. I think Mr. Boot called him Jason."

"That's enough chitter-chatter!" a prefect said, interrupting their conversation. "Go on to your classes, break is almost over."

A few floors above the courtyard, Professor Boot smiled as she closed the window.

"Cheeky blighters," Schmendrick said crossly.

"Oh, be quiet," Isabella told him, smiling to herself. "They don't know better."

The picture on her desk showed her and Terry with Beatrice and a small Jason. Another picture showed her with Alessandro in Hogsmede on her sixteenth birthday. The last picture was that of Isabella, Fred, George, Morgan, Alex, and Luna outside the castle.

Isabella slipped out of the classroom and wandered through the corridor, nodding at fellow professors and smiling at the students who scurried on to their other classes.

Finally, as the last classroom door swung shut and the other teachers settled down to giving yet another lecture, Professor Boot found herself at the top of the staircase of Ravenclaw Tower.

"What do you want?" the eagle knocker asked crossly.

"The truth," she replied casually. The eagle cocked its head at her and said at length:

"Many seek that, but few like the answer."

"Why me?" Isabella said. "I asked years ago: why me?" It was a question that Isabella wasn't quite sure the knocker could answer, but she asked it anyways. Why had Rowena chosen her to speak with? Why had the eagle knocker conversed only with Isabella, instead of the countless Ravenclaws who had gone before?

"I am part of ye, Lyon-Notte-Lyon," the knocker said, its voice changed to Rowena's musical tones. Switching back to its familiar sing-song cadence, the eagle continued, "Ravenclaws are chosen for their minds, and though you had great intelligence, that was not enough. You were made for Gryffindor, you the Lionheart. But wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure, and wit you possess.

"So Ravenclaw claimed you; that you might be clever enough to interpret the message, and brave enough to take action. You are the lion who is not a lion, the One Foretold to Rowena when Hogwarts was first founded.

"So Rowena made me, and crafted me with her mind, not only to guard the doorway but also to await the One Foretold. I knew your wit and recognized you. I saw the Lion when others saw the Gold Raven. So I spoke.

And that is why."

A/N: Another ending, my beloved readers. I must thank all of you, but especially those who reviewed. My deepest gratitude goes towards anyone who has been with Isabella since the beginning. You are the best readers a writer could ask for. - Elmethea


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